


touch

by fragilelittleteacup



Series: A Safe Haven [1]
Category: Haven (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Aromantic Female Character, Begging, Bisexual Male Character(s), Canonical Abusive Family (mentioned: Duke's past), Case Fic, Character Death (mentioned: Nathan's Mother), Coming In Pants, Coming Out, Coming Untouched, Cupcakes, Desperation Play, Dirty Talk, Domestic Fluff, Fanart (in the final chapter), First Time, First Time Bottoming, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gentle Sex, Hand Jobs, Hospitalization, Humor, Humour, Implied/Referenced Drug Use (minor mention), Kissing, Lesbian Character, Massage, Multi, Non-Penetrative Sex, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Porn with Feelings, Power Dynamics, Romance, Rough Sex, Sass, Secret Relationship, Sensation Play, Sensitivity, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2018-11-19 03:52:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 41
Words: 36,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11305116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fragilelittleteacup/pseuds/fragilelittleteacup
Summary: Duke has an immunity to the Troubles.





	1. hurt

In Duke’s defence, he didn’t think it through.

Well. That wasn’t exactly a _defence,_ but hey. What the fuck was he supposed to think, when he started to put the pieces together, started to _realise_ what was happening? He didn’t exactly know when he’d triggered his Trouble, because he lived a tumultuous life, and any one of those trauma-fuelled late night binges could’ve been the cause. And it wasn’t like he was controlling the weather or shapeshifting– this wasn’t an _obvious_ Trouble. Which was why it took him so long to figure it out. In the end, he had to walk up to a girl in town named Jordan and get her to touch him.

No reaction. Her Trouble was agonising pain, and he felt _nothing._

So he went home, back to his boat, and sat alone. Had a drink, as per usual. Tried to  _process,_ and just ended up confused. The sun sank, his creaking house painted in shades of blue and coal, and he was left alone with one single, maddening thought.

 _Shit._ _I'm immune._  

***

 

Duke walked into the station, vibrating with nervous irritation. He’d thought he was _normal_. He’d thought, throughout all the bullshit in Haven, that he could lean on his own averageness as a foundation of stability. Turned out that he couldn’t count on _anything_ anymore.

Nathan and Audrey looked up with deep frowns when he burst into their shared office. He stood in the doorway, clenching and unclenching his hands, until Nathan slowly said, “What’s up, Duke…?”

He sighed loudly, grabbed Nathan’s wrist.

Nathan went still.

His eyes widened, mouth opening in a hollow gasp, body going rigid. He trembled like an electric shock was punching through him, and then yanked his hand away. His fingers were shaking, and Duke knew he had just made a terrible, terrible mistake.

“Whoa, Duke,” Audrey stood, put both hands on Nathan’s shoulders to steady him. “What the hell was that?”

Duke held out his hands cluelessly, gestured to Nathan. “I’m Troubled.”

“I can,” Nathan swallowed thickly, the hollow of his throat tightening, “I can feel- I can feel you.”

Duke nodded. “I’m immune. That’s my Trouble. I’m _immune,_ goddamnit.”

“Wow,” Audrey grinned, “that might be useful, Duke.”

He shrugged as if he could be casual, as if he could be _nonchalant_ when Nathan was looking up at him like his soul had just been yanked out of his body. His lips were parted, his face was pale, and he looked as if he was about to bolt out the door.

Audrey started talking about how he could help in cases. How he could assist the police, that maybe he should even get a _job_ as a cop, god forbid. But Duke couldn’t look away from Nathan, couldn’t break his gaze.

Nathan leapt up out of his seat. His movements were fast, unsteady, and he was shaking on his feet like a newborn calf. His Trouble had been activated when he was a child, in a skiing accident Duke remembered in vivid shades of red and white. Nathan had not felt the touch of another person since the age of seven, and Duke had just cut through the floating, disconnected haze that Nathan had floated in since that day. Sliced through it like it was _nothing,_ like the warm, dry slide of skin wasn’t the most intimate way to violate everything Nathan knew. Jesus, he'd only  _held Nathan's wrist,_ and that had been enough to send Nathan into a tailspin– the amount of power he held in his hands was unspeakably horrifying.

Nathan stepped out from behind his desk, jumped across the room when Duke unthinkingly reached for him.

“Don’t,” he said, “don’t.”

Duke watched him flee.

 

***

 

Duke wanted to act like nothing was wrong, but he found himself going around to Nathan's apartment, looking through the window, peering inside like some kind of goddamn  _lovesick teenager._ Or a stalker. Either one was equally distressing.

"Nathan!" He called out, hands cupped around his mouth to try and amplify his voice. "Nathan, come out!"

No reply.

Duke wasn't sure he could fix this.

 

 


	2. want

Nathan could only run for so long. Haven was a small place.

Duke found him outside the station, blowing curiously at a coffee cup as if he could tell its temperature by looking at it. Duke sighed, walked up to him and sat down. Nathan stiffened immediately, fingers tightening around the flimsy cardboard. Shit, he looked fucking  _traumatised._

“…Hey.” Duke offered.

Nathan nodded, tight-lipped and tense.

Duke sighed, gestured for Nathan to give him the coffee. Nathan handed it over after a moment’s deliberation, hands jerking away the moment he was clear. Duke had a sip, coughed when the liquid scalded his tongue.

“Yeah. You might wanna give that a little longer.”

Nathan took back the cup. Their fingers touched and the cup fell, coffee spilling out onto the concrete. Almond-coloured stains splashed over their jeans, and Nathan gasped hoarsely. The phrase _you look like you’ve seen a ghost_ came to mind, but Duke wasn’t capable of making jokes. Not like this.

“Sorry-”

“You can’t,” Nathan shied away from him, his torso curling, knees pressing together, “You can’t just _do that-”_

“I didn’t mean to, alright?” Duke held out his hands. “I’m sorry I touched you. Yesterday, and- and just now.”

Nathan looked frightened, but he wasn’t getting up and leaving. Duke lowered his hands slowly onto his thighs, moving like he was dealing with a scared animal. The metaphor was disturbingly apt.

“Nathan, listen, I’ll… I’ll stay away from you. Not like we’re the best of friends anyway, right? It’ll give me an excuse to stay away from the police station.”

He laughed hesitantly, but Nathan didn’t.

Then he saw it.

Nathan’s eyelids flickered, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. He inhaled shakily, and Duke _realised._

“Unless you… you want me to…?”

Nathan rose to his feet, shook his head. His face tightened into a grimace, fury creasing the lines of his face, but Duke _knew_ him. He knew how Nathan used anger and resentment to cover up pain, knew that Nathan wanted something else _entirely._ And he knew what lust looked like, he knew what desperation was– and realising that Nathan goddamn Wuornos was looking at him with an expression that said _fuck me into a wall_ was...

...well. Duke didn't know how it was. He could feel a pounding pulse of heat in his stomach, and couldn't deny what it meant.

He _liked_ Nathan looking at him that way.

“Stay away from me, Duke,” Nathan snarled, “don’t you dare touch me again.”

 

 


	3. remember

Nathan avoided Duke for two whole weeks, which Duke thought was _fine,_ thank you very fucking much. They’d been arguing for years, personalities clashing in a war of incompatible ideals and morals– this was just another fight, just another bridge that Duke could burn to keep his hands warm.

That was what he was telling himself, anyway.

Duke could only admit the truth in quiet moments, in solitude, in the midst of nights spent alone floating on the ocean. He would gaze up at the ceiling, at the peeling paint that was clinging to metal (he needed to repaint, _again)._ He would wonder about Nathan, about the fear that had cut him down the middle and made his sea-blue eyes tight with a terror Duke would never understand. He would think about the _need_ in Nathan’s face, the way he’d trembled with rage at the very idea of desire.

Duke would breathe in slow, accept the weight of the power he held.

Then he would reach down, hands tentative as they dipped beneath his waistband.

He would wonder if Nathan was trying to do this as well. He would wonder if Nathan, in his lonely suburban apartment (as _suburban_ as Haven got, anyway), was lying in his bed with a tight jaw, teeth gritted in frustration as he tried to jerk off, tried to _feel something._ Christ, imagining a grown damn man (and his _friend,_ nonetheless) unable to get himself off was the saddest fucking thing Duke had ever entertained– which was why he _shouldn’t_ have been _so fucking turned on_ by the idea of Nathan writhing around in desperate, unsated, _crying_ need.

Duke's hand would move faster, and he would think about all the years they had spent together, all the unnoticed glances he'd given Nathan in their school changing rooms. He would remember seeing Nathan shirtless, bent over his school bag as he changed, the curvature of his spine long and elegant, the wings of his shoulder blades prominent under pale skin. He would remember seeing Nathan hiding near the lockers, tentatively kissing a girl, his lips pouted around hers, eyebrows drawn together. He would remember growing up alongside the most temperamental, dramatic, withdrawn boy, and taunting him just because he wanted to see a blush on those cheeks– and he would remember, most of all, seeing Nathan growing into an adult man and thinking,  _I wish you were anyone else just so that I could touch you, just so that you could feel it when I fuck you._

At about this point, Duke would remember that he  _could_ touch Nathan now. And that, finally, Nathan would be able to feel his touch.

Then he would come.

 

 


	4. approach

The sun was sinking low over Haven's horizon, turning everything soft and bright, shadows creeping across Duke's boat as he moved stock around to compensate for the rain that was forecast. He didn't care to ask what was in the boxes he transported, but he was pretty sure that most of the goods weren't waterproof.

Hauling boxes around had made him tired and sweaty, and as he contemplated going to wash up, he considered for the hundredth time that, maybe, he ought to go talk to Nathan. But then (as always) he remembered that he was jerking off every night to the fantasy of fucking Nathan. Christ, Duke had always been a gentleman– a philanderous scoundrel, sure, but he'd always respected his lovers and his friends. Normally he'd get over this little obsession and move the fuck on, make nice with Nathan so that the planet could go on spinning. But this wasn't a  _normal_ _situation._ Nathan was one of a kind. And Duke, much to his displeasure, was as well- he was the only one Nathan would ever be able to feel, which gave them a connection he couldn't ignore.

Sighing heavily, he tilted his head up towards the sky. The chill of night was starting to settle into the air, and he knew he'd have to go inside soon. There was a quiet thudding of footsteps, sharp shoes making shuffling noises against the wood of the dock, and Duke continued to look at the sky until the footsteps stopped. With yet another tired sigh, he rolled his head down to glare at whoever had approached his boat. It was no end of trouble around here; people were always coming to bother him. But his sarcastic greeting, perched patiently in his throat and ready to fly from his lips, was quickly silenced when he realised who had come to see him.

"Hey," Nathan said, looking down at his feet.

Duke swallowed hard. Nathan was wearing a tight shirt and jeans, and while Duke ordinarily wouldn't have looked twice (hey, he had  _some_ self control), this was a special occasion.

"Hey, Nathan."

Nathan shuffled where he stood, hands in his pockets. He looked frightened. Despite everything else, Duke felt a pang of sympathy.

"...You wanna come on the boat, or...?" He hedged worriedly.

"I don't know yet." Nathan replied. His voice was quiet, barely even audible over the quiet lapping of waves against the side of Duke's boat– and it was the absence of snappy annoyance in his tone, the  _vulnerability_ of his words, that made Duke certain what he had to do next. He had to be a friend. He had to be kind, and put Nathan's needs before his own.

"Well," Duke crossed his arms, smiled, "I've got some killer seafood cooking, if you're interested."

Nathan looked up, still worried. Duke smiled wider, and Nathan grinned shyly back.

"That sounds great," he said as he stepped down onto the boat, "thanks, Duke."

 

 


	5. negotiate

Duke served seafood paella, because it was wholesome and filling, and he knew that it tasted good. He’d secretly been honing his cooking skills since realising that Nathan, in all his numbed insensitivity, would have an exceptionally developed sense of taste. If either of his parents had been around to watch him develop, he was sure they'd have marvelled at his culinary expertise. Whenever he'd gotten the money and the ingredients (usually from bartering and stealing), he'd experimented, trying all kinds of different recipes. Shame he'd never actually worked up the courage to share meals with Nathan before now.

In his _adult_ life, Duke usually cooked for dates and lovers. He usually served the meals alongside candles and drawling, evocative conversation. It felt strange to have Nathan sitting, hunched over, at his kitchen table. He looked small. This boat was the one place he had always refused to go, dramatically unflinching in his white-knuckled grip on teenage angst. For years, he had clung to old quarrels, and the fact that he had changed so much in such a short time… it was disconcerting.

Duke set down a steaming bowl in front of Nathan, before sitting down himself.

“Bon appetite,” Duke said proudly, forcing a big grin onto his face. Nathan’s answering smile was twitchy and unconvincing (but, honestly, Duke just appreciated the effort. He could see how much the expression _hurt)_.

Nathan picked up his fork, holding the utensil unnecessarily tight. He shovelled a mouthful past his lips and started to chew fast– then he paused, eyes widening in surprise, grip going slack around the fork’s handle. Duke grinned, genuinely this time.

“Wow, Duke, this is…”

“…yeah?” Duke prompted him after a few seconds.

Nathan glanced downwards, a shy expression flitting across his face. And he– _shit,_ he looked so much like he was _blushing_ that Duke was sure he must have been hallucinating.

“It’s good.”

Duke nodded happily, waving one hand up in the air grandiosely. “Not the most elaborate of compliments, but I’ll take it.”

Nathan chuckled. It was barely a breath of sound, a hushed whisper of laughter, but it happened. Duke couldn’t believe it. He was almost willing to bet this was some kind of Trouble, maybe one where all his dreams came true and the giant stick finally slid out of Nathan’s ass. Ridiculous. Just ridiculous. He dug into his paella in lieu of actually addressing the cautious friendliness of Nathan’s manner.

They lapsed into silence. It was awkward (which reassured Duke somewhat, regarding the whole _fantasies coming true_  theory). The only sounds were quiet noises of eating, and clinks of metal against the ceramic plates.

Duke made it halfway through his meal before he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Any particular reason you came here tonight, Nathan?”

Nathan stopped chewing, a swallow forcing the lines of his throat to move painfully. He started to clutch his fork again. When he didn’t answer, Duke cleared his throat and tried again;

“What do you… want?”

“I don’t know.” Nathan snapped. He seemed to recognise the harshness of his tone, because he shook his head, rubbed at his face in a tired way that said _sorry._

“…Okay, okay. Alright. You, uh,” Duke gestured, “you came here because I can touch you, right?”

Nathan’s gaze sharpened. Duke held out his hand placatingly.

“Just- Just stay with me here, Nathan. I’m just trying to figure out a way to… give you what you want.”

“You don’t know what I want.” Nathan muttered.

“I _asked_ what you want, and you said you didn’t know.”

“Because I don’t!” Nathan hissed. He leaned over the table, lips pulling up into a snarl. “I haven’t been touched since I was _seven,_ Duke! I have no _idea_ what I want!”

His outburst splintered through the air, raw and unflinching, and Duke couldn’t think of a way to reply for the longest moment. As the anger faded from Nathan’s eyes, it was replaced by shame. He receded back into his chair, shrinking into a scared slouch. Duke felt a whiplash of something move through him. _Sadness_.

“Listen,” he murmured, trying to keep his voice soft, “listen, Nathan. Could you look at me?”

Nathan did. After a while.

“You know, once,” Duke began, sighing as he crossed his arms, leaned his weight forward onto the table, “I gave your dad a massage. He paid me for it and everything.”

Nathan frowned, confused. “…Okay.”

“I’ve given massages to heaps of people. What do you think I did before the whole smuggling deal, when I was younger? It’s not like I was a _born_ thief. I’ve still got the folding table and everything.”

Understanding coloured Nathan’s eyes, easing the frown off his forehead. “You… You want to give me a massage?”

“I want to help you, Nathan, I just,” Duke exhaled heavily, “I just want to know how.”

Nathan fidgeted. “I don’t…”

“You don’t what?”

“I don’t want this to be _weird,_ Duke,” Nathan bit out the words through his teeth.

“It won’t be weird!”

“It will.”

“I massaged your _dad_ , Nathan. Nothing weird about it.”

Nathan looked down at his lap. His forehead was tight and his jaw was taut, a muscle prominent beneath his skin. Duke had never seen him so tormented.

“No hanky panky,” Duke said, just to force a laugh out of him, “I promise.”

Nathan snorted, rubbing at his face again. “Thanks for the clarification.”

He drew in a long breath.

Then, finally, he said, “Okay. Alright.”

Duke could’ve jumped for joy. But he didn’t. He just smiled, contained his elation, and stood to go take his empty plate back to the kitchen.

“Finish your dinner,” he said, “I’ll go get some more wine.”

 

 


	6. break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reminder: i do not have a beta reader, so chapters may feature the occasional error

Duke set up the massage table in a small room, the space on his boat that he usually reserved for meditation and yoga. After a second of deliberation, he lit the candles and ignited some incense, smoothing lotion across his palms and letting the calming scent of citrus spice the air. His motivations were unselfish and genuine; he really _did_ want this to be as relaxing for Nathan as possible, and he knew that smells would help ground Nathan in a sense that he was used to experiencing. Duke  _wanted_ to help.

But that didn’t mean his heart wasn’t sprinting. That didn’t mean that his mouth wasn’t as dry as a desert, the undeniably _romantic_ aura of this whole deal making him anxious. The room was dark except for the candles, smoke slowly wafting around the flames. It was like the setting of a nineties porno flick.

 _Christ, Duke Crocker,_ he thought, _keep it in your fucking pants._

“What’s this?”

Duke managed not to jump out of his skin. He turned, grinned at Nathan (who was standing in the doorway looking _perplexed)._

“This is a massage parlour, Nathan. Yours for the night.”

Nathan frowned, eyes narrowing into a squint. “Don’t you usually use this as a way to… entice your dates?”

Duke only just managed not to balk. “No.”

“You do. You’ve bragged about it.”

“Okay, Nathan, I do, but,” Duke rolled his eyes, trying to make the exasperated expression seem convincing, “ _you_ aren’t my date, so don’t worry about that.”

Nathan wrinkled his nose, cringing.

“You can leave any time you want,” Duke reminded him, “if you’re not ready-”

“No.” Nathan blurted. Tired nervousness flashed across his face, and he sighed shakily. “Just tell me what you want to do.”

 _You’re definitely not ready,_ Duke wanted to tell him, but he didn’t. He knew what Nathan was like.

“Alright, take off your shirt, I guess.”

He turned back to the massage table, picking up the lotion again and pouring a little more onto his hands– more than he needed, but the point of the action was in avoiding watching Nathan undress. He heard the quiet rustling of fabric, the hush of Nathan’s shirt against his skin.

“Where should I put this?”

“Just drop it there,” Duke replied, trying to keep his voice steady, “come lie down. On your back, I think. Usually I’d say to lie on your chest, but I think it might be better if you can see what I’m doing.”

“Good idea,” Nathan replied, his voice softer now. Duke stepped away from the table, around to the other side so that Nathan could get up onto it– and then he had no excuse _not_ to look.

Nathan was lithe, his body brown and long and _tight._ His body was dotted with clusters of scars and blemishes, the result of being numb most of his life, and being neglectful with first aid in the absence of pain to give him an incentive. His chest was flat and defined, tapering down into the lines of his hips, ending with the closed circle of his belt. Duke wanted _nothing more_ than to hook his fingers under that waistband and yank him close, but he couldn’t. He _wouldn’t,_ not like this. No matter how tempting Nathan was, no matter how shapely his arms were and how _beautifully_ the curves of his biceps caught the candlelight. No matter how sharp the angles of his face were, tight with worry and all the more elegant for the heaviness in his eyes.

Nathan lay down, shuffling and hesitant, and Duke was struck speechless by this. By the vulnerability of it all. Nathan was baring himself in a way far more significant than just physical.

“…Okay,” Duke said, voice coming out hoarse and strangled, “you ready?”

Nathan rolled his bottom lip under his teeth, bit down. He nodded, eyes wide and afraid. It was obvious he was lying, but shit, he was a grown man. He could make his own choices.

Duke reached out a hand, deciding not to prolong the moment any further. Better that they get on with it. He moved slowly, carefully, gently laying his palm on Nathan’s sternum.

Nathan, still biting down into his lip, let out a strangled groan _._ His eyelids fluttered closed, fast and automatic, and Duke wondered how the hell he was going to survive this without developing an erection hard enough to fuck through steel.

 _Stay on track,_ he thought hysterically, _stay on track._

“Just breathe,” Duke suggested.

Nathan’s eyebrows drew together into a tight, trembling frown, and Duke realised immediately what he was thinking.

“This stays between us,” he added, “you can trust me. I promise. I know I was an asshole when we were younger, but that’s… I wouldn’t make fun of you for this, Nathan. Not for this.”

Nathan opened his eyes. Duke looked back at him, tried not to wonder what colour those irises were, whether they were the hazel of chestnuts, the green of the grass, the eternal blue of the sky before the stars dared appear. In the darkness, flecked with gold from the candles, Nathan’s eyes appeared to be _all colours._

“You can trust me,” he repeated, shocked by the tenderness in his own voice. His hand was still on Nathan’s sternum, and he felt the bowing of ribs as Nathan inhaled sharply.

“Thank you,” Nathan whispered, “Duke, I…”

“It’s okay. Just tell me when you’re ready for me to move, yeah?”

Nathan nodded. He looked like he was about to cry.

“Alright, you… You can move.”

“Already?” Duke asked incredulously. “If you want to take this slower, I can wait-”

“I want it, please.” Nathan’s voice was strained, and he closed his eyes.

“…Are you sure?”

Nathan licked at his lips, leaving a smudge of wetness there that Duke wanted so badly to brush away with his thumb.

When Nathan didn't bother to reply again, Duke took the initiative. He moved his hand. Inched it lower, down Nathan’s chest, dipping into the space below his sternum. Nathan wrapped his fingers around the edge of the massage table, clung on for dear life. The next breath he took was haggard, rattling in his throat, tinged with what could only be described as a _whimper._

“Tell me how it feels.”

Nathan shook his head, lips pressed into a thin line. His eyes were still determinedly closed, and Duke realised, _he wants me to overwhelm him._

So he moved his hand again. Curved his fingers against the edge of Nathan’s ribs, the side of his palm cupping the angle of bone. Nathan moaned, and Duke was _definitely_ turned on now.

 

***

 

When they were done, Duke helped ease Nathan off the bench, holding him up as he swayed. Nathan’s eyes were glassy, half-lidded, mouth hanging open. His cheeks were pink, flushed with a fever-hot burn. He looked drugged. Duke was still hard, but his jeans were constrictive enough to hide it. The main thing he felt at present was  _concern._

“You okay? Hey, Nathan, look at me.”

Nathan fidgeted where he stood, looking down. He let out a choked noise, pressing his thighs together, and it was only then that Duke realised Nathan was hard too.

“…Oh,” Nathan breathed, “right.”

He started to shuffle away, picking up his shirt. Duke wanted to offer some kind of assistance, but he didn’t know what to do.

“Nathan-”

“Thanks, Duke,” Nathan said listlessly, his voice oddly empty, “I’ll see you around.”

Duke watched him walk off, struggling to pull on his shirt. A strange feeling clenched at his throat, making his stomach roil. Nathan wasn’t okay.

He’d just made yet another _big mistake._

 

 


	7. intermission

Avoiding Nathan became Duke’s number one priority– not because of his pride, and not because he wanted to pretend he didn’t care. His single driving motivation was _fear._ He didn’t know what he’d done, how badly he’d damaged Nathan, and the intimacy with which Nathan had shattered in front of him had left him terrified of causing yet another pained encounter. So he stayed on his boat, mostly, and worked at his restaurant. He knew that Nathan wasn’t the most social of men, so his determined avoidance probably wasn’t warranted. But still… he didn’t want to take any chances. Given all the damage he had done, the best course of action was to sit on his ass until Nathan figured out where the fuck they stood, given the whole soulmate-dramatic touching bullshit.

So, there he was, sitting innocently in his boat when someone came knocking.

He held a gun by his thigh, as was standard procedure when you were the middleman for illegal shipping manoeuvres. But he saw blonde hair through his window, illuminated prettily by the dock’s streetlights, and he stowed it in the back of his pants, relaxing. No way he’d mistake that gorgeous damn hair for anybody else’s.

He greeted Audrey with a grin that fell just short of being convincing. No way she’d come here in the middle of the night for any reason other to demand some answers for some grievance or another, or to ask for help on a case. Neither of which was particularly palatable to him.

“Audrey. What can I do for you?”

“I’m worried.” She said flatly, crossing her arms. “About Nathan.”

Duke nodded, pursed his lips. “Sounds like you’ve come to the wrong person, then. I haven’t seen Nathan in about a month.”

“I _know,_ Duke, which is a funny coincidence– that was when I last saw him too.”

Duke frowned. “What?”

“He took time off, Duke,” Audrey told him, eyes wide with the intensity of her words, “he’s on _vacation_.”

Duke tried not to let his shock show, but he felt himself go rigid, felt his face settle into horrified comprehension. Nathan Wuornos, as a rule, did _not_ take time off.  _Ever._

“Well, that’s,” Duke cleared his throat, “that’s odd, Audrey. Guess the guy finally learned how to relax-”

“Quit it, Duke,” Audrey snapped, “tell me what happened between you two that night. I know he was coming to see you.”

“You never really lost that FBI badass-ness, did you? Feel like you’re about to arrest me or something.”

“I _might,_ if you don’t start talking.”

“Audrey-”

“Duke! Start talking! I’m really worried-”

“It’s private!”

Audrey fell silent at that, and Duke sighed loudly, rubbing at his face. He leaned against the doorway and tried to figure out what Nathan would want, if he was here.

“Listen, Audrey, it’s…” he spoke into his palm, words despondent and muffled, “…It’s not my place. If I tell you what happened, Nathan will definitely hate me forever, and that’s not an exaggeration. I know it seemed like he hated me before, but this…”

He let his voice trail off. When he lifted his head to look at her, she seemed understanding, if still distressed. He shrugged helplessly, saying, _there’s nothing to be done._

“…Alright,” she nodded, “…Okay, Duke. I trust your judgement.”

 _That’s your first fucking mistake,_ he thought miserably.

“Thanks,” he said instead, as she turned to leave. “Hey- Audrey?”

“Yeah?”

“You have checked that he’s still alive, right? Just, y’know, in Haven… being missing for a month is usually a bad thing.”

She smiled, the edges of her storm-grey eyes softening, her cheeks rounding with the expression. Duke felt pinned-down by her stare, exposed in a way he hadn’t expected. It was as if his concern for Nathan was confessing something, throwing his _feelings_ out into the open for Audrey’s perceptive eye to catch.

“I’ve checked,” she said gently, “he’s alive.”

Duke nodded urgently, keen to get her to leave. His cheeks were hot. He wasn’t sure why.

“Alright, well, I- I’ve got dinner cooking, so-”

“In the middle of the night?”

“Yeah. The life of a common thief, you know how it is.”

Her smile widened, amused now. “Sure. Goodnight Duke.”

He watched her go, feeling embarrassed and confused. As soon as she was gone, he banged his head against the doorframe and muttered flustered curses into the night. He gazed out over the water, face burning, and thought of Nathan's body. Thought of his eyes, his skin, his hands and his hips.

 _...Goddamnit,_ he thought,  _god-fucking-damnit._

 

 


	8. offer

Nathan’s apartment looked lonely.

This shouldn’t have been a surprise to Duke– yet here he was, standing on Nathan’s doorstep and feeling fucking _depressed_ by what was in front of him. The place was bare and undecorated, painted a dreary off-white that might’ve been an attempt at cream once upon a time. The windowsills were in desperate need of a dusting. There were pot plants stationed by the door, long since having turned brown and brittle from neglect. Duke imagined Nathan trudging home after a long day at work, unlocking his door, and spending his nights all alone in this shithole. He wished the idea didn’t make him as _angry_ as it did, but fuck, there it was; he cared about Nathan enough to be infuriated by the masochism he’d always known Nathan to exhibit. Logically, he knew that there was no point hating something he couldn’t fix, but that didn’t seem to relieve him of this… _feeling._

As a rule, Duke didn’t go seeking out people who were pissed at him, but Nathan seemed to be an exception to every rule he’d had. Which he didn’t like.

Duke lifted his fist to hammer on Nathan’s front door, but paused. He took a long, calming breath, unfolding his hand so that he could rap his knuckles on the wood instead.

“Nathan?”

No answer.

“Nathan, you there?” He called out tentatively. “Nathan, open the door, c’mon. I’m here on a peace mission, alright?”

Still no answer. Duke knocked again, just so he could reassure himself that he’d made the effort, and wasn’t surprised when the door remained steadfastly locked. Having been disappointed (as he had expected to be), he took the bowl of paella out from under his arm. He made sure the note was firmly taped to it before he sat it down on the front stoop.

“I’ll be on my boat, if you wanna talk,” he added, voice gentler now, “I don’t… I don’t mind, Nathan. You must've been experiencing so many new sensations that night, and how you reacted, it... it's totally fine. Really. It’s _all_ fine. So if you… Y’know, if you want, or need…”

He let his voice trail off. Shit, he barely knew where that train of thought was going anyway.

“…Just come see me, okay? Or call me.”

 

***

 

He went and sat in his car, parked a little down the road from Nathan’s house– far enough away that Nathan wouldn’t see him, but close enough that he could peek at Nathan’s front door through the trees that were planted outside his apartment complex. It was a good thing that Nathan lived on the ground floor, because the trees obscured most of the upper floors.

Yeah, this was creepy. This was probably stalking, or something equally creepy that would _definitely_ be punishable with imprisonment if Nathan caught him.

But shit, he was Duke Crocker.

Since when did he follow the law?

About fifteen minutes after he’d bunkered down in his car, Nathan’s door slowly opened. Nathan emerged, blinking dully at the sunlight, his hair mussed from sleep and sticking up in a way that made Duke want to run his fingers through it. He was wearing grey pyjamas (at _three o’clock in the evening,_ Duke couldn’t help but notice), the striped pants making Duke dizzy with both the urge to laugh and the desire to get of the car and _molest_ Nathan’s smooth ass beneath that clinging cotton. He pressed both hands over his face, feeling ashamed and hysterical, letting out a helpless burst of laughter in the silence of his car. He got a hold on himself pretty quick after that.

_Christ, you’re a grown fucking man. Calm the hell down._

Nathan bent down, picked up the paella, frowned at it for a while before figuring out what it was. He peeled the note off the side of the bowl. Duke watched him as he read it, gnawing absentmindedly on his lip, nervous to see how Nathan would react. It had taken him a full day to decide what would best break through Nathan’s concrete-thick wall of emotional trauma. In the end he’d simply opted for, _‘I’m sorry I upset you’_ , because he didn’t know how to be cleverer than that in this particular situation. Wittiness, while being a driving force in Duke's life, wasn't any use to him here; he'd just gone for straightforward honesty in a desperate attempt to get Nathan to believe his sincerity.

A smile broke out over Nathan’s face.

He looked sad, his eyes soft at the edges, but it was a smile nonetheless. Duke grinned in delight. He nearly punched the air in celebration, but he was worried the movement would catch Nathan’s eye and ruin this whole mission for good.

Nathan went back inside, scratching at his hair. And yeah, Duke might have looked down at the tight curve of that ass, and he might have fixedly stared at the sliver of brown skin where Nathan’s shirt was riding up (and he _might have_ taken a second glance at that hair and imagined gripping it as he fucked Nathan from behind), but he also felt a warm, blooming sensation of relief flooding through him. He was _thrilled_ to see that look of happiness on Nathan’s face.

This wasn’t just lust. This wasn’t just the desire to fuck Nathan senseless, which Duke had gotten very used to over many years of wanting to kiss Nathan just to _shut him the fuck up._

This was…

…something else.

 

 


	9. accept

Next morning when Duke woke up, the empty bowl was sitting on the deck of his boat, washed clean, with a new note attached to it.

It simply read, _‘Thanks, Duke’_.

 

 


	10. power

The Grey Gull was always a nightmare to run on Friday nights.

It wasn’t like Duke _minded,_ though, because he’d dealt with far worse. Shit, before he was even fourteen he’d perfected the art of bartering for his dinner and streetfighting to get money. He’d dealt with thugs, bullies, dealers, junkies, and pimps– all before hitting the legal drinking age. A crowd of drunken locals and tourists was _nothing_. He had them all wrapped around his little finger.

He stayed behind the bar, keeping watch over his staff and assisting on the floor when he was needed. Generally, he wasn’t. He hired only the best, the ones who’d done it a bit rough and knew the worth of hard work. They were all weathered by experience, even the younger ones, and they didn’t need any help dealing with insistent customers. Music hummed through the bar's speakers, a soothing exotic piece– the transcendent beauty of which was, of course, utterly lost on Duke's intoxicated patrons. But it sure helped to keep them in a partying mood. Duke swirled a dishtowel over a glass, absentmindedly drying it, the chaos of the bar turning to buzzing commotion in his ears.

He was distracted.

Nathan had returned his gesture, politely accepted the olive branch in a decidedly _un-Nathan_ way, and Duke couldn’t stop thinking about that note. Those words, scrawled in a sheepishly rushed mess of letters. Nathan didn’t _go easy._ He didn’t back down, ever, and he certainly did not play nice. Part of Duke was almost convinced this was some kind of sham, a cruel joke on Nathan’s part.

He sighed heavily, put the glass down on the counter. The heat of the bar was suffocating him, making the back of his neck damp with sweat. He gathered his hair up off his skin, pulled it into a ponytail. That helped somewhat, but he still felt stifled by this damn place, and all these _people._

“Hey,” he said, clapping his hand down onto the shoulder of his bartender, “keep an eye on the place, would you?”

Sherry nodded promptly in reply, pouring a line of vodka shots without spilling a single drop. She was about twenty-one years old, and a real tough kid. She was so named because of her love of fortified wines, but Duke wasn’t stupid enough to believe that Sherry was her _real name._ He grabbed a beer from the fridge, and then went out into the clean stillness of the night. The chill of the air slapped against his cheek, made him exhale smoothly in relief; the winds got up, here near the ocean’s edge, and he’d always felt a certain comfort with the cold. It felt _familiar_. Reminded him of his days hopping couches and sleeping rough, helped him appreciate what he had.

He undid the cap on his beer, had a long drink.

The roar and cackle of the bar was still loud where he stood, but the relaxation of going for a stroll into the darkness really wouldn’t be worth it. He had a responsibility to his staff, and he didn’t take responsibility lightly. Leaving in the middle of rush hour would be a _dick move._

So he closed his eyes, and pretended. Pretended that he was anywhere else, that he was with _someone else_ in particular.

“Nice night, huh.”

Duke opened his eyes, thinking _no fucking way,_ but there he was. Nathan fucking Wuornos, of all people, wearing a green t-shirt and jeans. Smiling timidly, like he knew how the expression played havoc with Duke’s damn heart. Hands shoved deep down in his pockets, head inclined forwards shyly.

“…Nathan.” Duke replied, momentarily incapable of saying more. He found himself smiling, softer than his façade should have allowed, found some of the warmth in his chest seeping into his face.

Oh, fuck. He was _so fucked._

“I, uh,” Nathan looked down at his feet, scuffed his shoes in the white stone dust of the Grey Gull's driveway, “thought we should talk.”

Duke nodded. “Sure. But inside, though.”

Nathan frowned. “Why?”

Duke laughed. He resisted the urge to obstinately point out the obvious, because it _wasn’t_ obvious to Nathan. “It’s freezing, Nate. You’ll get sick.”

“…Why’re you out here, then?”

“Ha,” Duke laughed again, shaking his head and taking a deep gulp of his beer, “just wanted some peace and quiet, that’s all.”

Nathan nodded, serious now. It really was _adorable,_ how sombre he could manage to look in less than a second, almost like flipping a switch.

“Well,” he began, taking a deep breath, “what I have to say won’t take long, so.”

Duke nodded. “That sounds… ominous.”

Nathan looked down at his feet again, toeing the white dust, making small clouds erupt around his ankles. There was a smile tugging at his mouth, obscured by the angle of his face, and curiosity sparked a warmth in Duke’s chest (helped along, inevitably, by the slow burn of alcohol).

“I’m not comfortable with you. Since I was… vulnerable. In front of you.”

“…Oh.” Duke replied perplexedly, because, _what the fuck?_ Nathan was actually _communicating his feelings?_ Shit, it was definitely snowing in hell.

“I have a solution,” Nathan continued, still looking down, “one that I think you’ll like. I can fix this.”

“Mm? And how’s that, Nathan?” Duke lifted his beer to his mouth again, lips against the glass rim. Nathan raised his eyes upwards, and there was a _look_ there, the same one that Duke had seen outside the police station. There was _intent_ in those eyes, a deliberate darkness that said Nathan _wanted_ things.  The alcohol was suddenly thick in Duke’s throat, sticking somewhere behind his windpipe as he tried to swallow.

“By sucking you off.”

Duke choked on his beer.

He doubled over, spluttering, one hand against his mouth. Nathan laughed, quiet and gentle, reaching out a hand to steady him. Duke leaned into the offered support before it occurred to him that Nathan was _touching him,_ and suddenly his mind computed what he’d just heard.

“Nathan, what’re you…? _What…?”_

Nathan stared at where they were joined, his hand against Duke’s upper arm. Then his eyes flickered over to meet Duke’s, wide and unblinking, lips parted as his breathing hastened.

“As long as you wear a condom, I won’t have a gag reflex. You'll be vulnerable, and we'll be even.” His tongue darted between his lips, wetting his mouth- and _oh,_ he was _definitely_ smiling now. He looked mischievous, amused, _thrilled._ Nathan had always possessed a cheeky sense of humour when it suited him, but shit, Duke had never imagined he’d be on the receiving end of it. Not like this.

Nathan moved closer, the space between them closing as Duke straightened up, swallowing thickly. There was an echo of sound from the bar, but neither of them moved. When Nathan exhaled, the warm cloud of his breath touched on Duke’s cheek, and Duke wondered if Nathan could feel his breath too. Could _taste_ him.

“How would you like that, Crocker?” Nathan continued, voice quieter now. His hand moved from the hem of Duke’s shirt sleeve across his chest, fingers fanning over his sternum. Duke inhaled, shocked, blinking rapidly as if he could make this hallucination disappear. The night air was cold, chilling him down to the bone, but it didn’t help ground him. At all. Who knew he, of all people, could feel so helpless in the face of physical closeness?

“I can’t feel it, when I touch you like this,” Nathan whispered, words scraping out of his throat, raw and heavy, “there’s fabric between us. But I want to. I want to _feel you_ , Duke. Know you want it too.”

Duke sucked in another sharp breath. “That’s- That’s quite a presumption there, Nate.”

Nathan’s eyelids dipped down, his face relaxing into a soft smile. “I like it when you call me that. It reminds me…”

Exactly _what_ it reminded him of, Duke didn’t find out. Because Nathan leaned forward, bringing their mouths together. It was innocent enough, really, but Duke froze. He knew what this _meant._

So he stood there, not daring to even breathe, as Nathan inched closer.

Nathan pouted his lips against Duke’s, dotting gentle, soft kisses against Duke’s closed mouth. And _shit,_ the things Duke _wanted to do._ He wanted to grab Nathan hard, grind against him, push him down onto the ground and eat up every helpless gasp that Nathan would give him. He wanted to rock against, _inside,_ Nathan. He wanted to press and suck and _push,_ and he wanted Nathan to _take it all._ But he knew he couldn’t, he knew it wouldn’t be right.

So he didn’t.

After a while, Nathan leaned back. His cheeks were flushed pink, eyes drugged into senseless need, hands limp where they hung by his thighs. Just like that night on Duke’s boat. And Duke realised, in that moment, that all the things he was imagining- _that_ was what this was, for Nathan. A tiny kiss, a gentle press of tightly shut lips; that was as carnal, as obscenely erotic, as sex itself.

God. Nathan was so _breakable._

The things Duke wanted to _do_ to him…

“Wow,” Nathan exhaled brokenly, seeming to teeter on his feet, unsteady where he stood.

“You… alright?” Duke hedged, not bothering to hide the breathy edge to his words. They were still close, and if he just turned his face to the side, their cheeks would touch. But he knew he couldn’t. He knew that would be _too much_ for Nathan.

“Yeah.” Nathan replied. “I think.”

“You don’t even like me, Nathan. You haven’t for years. Are you sure you… want this? You and me, together?”

“You don’t understand,” Nathan insisted, words rushing out of his mouth in a tumbling gasp, “your touch, it- it’s the _whole world,_ Duke. Like I’m- I’m floating, just… _unbound._ I can’t feel anything. Anything except you. You’re the only one, and I… I wish it wasn’t as dramatic as it sounds, but it is.”

“So what you’re telling me is that you’d let anyone touch you, if you could only feel them?” Duke heard pain sharpening his tone, but he couldn’t help it. “That’s all this is to you? You don’t really care about me at all.”

Nathan leaned back. The yellow glow of the bar warmed his face, turned his skin rosy in the blue night. He looked hurt, his eyes tight at the edges, mouth set into a hard line.

“Do you remember that day? When I had my skiing accident, and I stopped being able to feel?

Duke nodded.

“It didn’t happen right away, the loss of sensation. I couldn’t feel the pain, but I could feel other things. I could feel you holding me, when you carried me to the hospital. I didn’t understand what was happening to me, but you… you were older than me, and stronger. You made me feel safe. I was so frightened, and,” Nathan shook his head minutely, closed his eyes like the memory _hurt,_ “you were the last person I felt, Duke. Before I stopped feeling anything at all.”

The confession hit Duke like a freight train, and he didn’t know what to say. Nathan, eyes still closed, turned his face tentatively, the tip of his nose brushing Duke’s cheek.

“Nathan, I… I had no idea.”

“’Course not,” Nathan chuckled sadly, “I convinced myself it was your fault. I hated you for being the last person that I-”

Duke reached up, took Nathan’s jaw in his hand. Nathan’s mouth opened instinctively, lips parting wide with a shocked gasp. Before he could speak, Duke kissed him. He wasn't soft, or gentle, or careful. He wanted Nathan to know what he was signing up for, wanted to give him a chance to back out if he couldn't take it.

"Duke," Natan gasped. Duke clamped a hand around the back of his neck, held him in place so that he couldn't escape just yet.

He slipped his tongue inside, hot and slick, dragging it against the ridges of Nathan’s mouth just to feel him tremble. When he leaned away, he dug his teeth into the fullness of Nathan’s bottom lip, tugging until their mouths parted. Nathan swayed, forwards and then backwards, like he didn’t know what he needed.

"You still want this?" Duke breathed.

Nathan choked out a whimper, apparently unable to speak. 

“If this is what you want, I’ll give it to you,” Duke continued, “as slow, or as fast, as you need it. Okay?”

Nathan jolted and shuddered, hyperventilating. Duke wanted to hold him, cup his face and reassure him, but he knew better than to touch him again.

“I’m gonna drive you home now.” Duke whispered. “Home, nowhere else. Then I’m going to come back here to work. I’ll stay if you need me to, but I won’t… I won’t touch you again. Not yet. I want you to think about this. I want you to be sure.”

Nathan nodded, the movement trembling down through his body.

Duke went to go get his keys.

 

 


	11. submission

Nathan was quiet in the car, as was to be expected. He looked dazed, flushed red from hairline to collarbone, eyes unfocussed as Duke drove. His usual hostility seemed to be utterly gone, along with his entire fucking  _personality._ The intensity of what they were doing weighed heavy on Duke as he drove, and the singular thought running around in his head was _what the fuck am I doing, what the fuck am I doing, what the fuck am I doing-_

When he parked, Nathan didn’t get out.

“…We’re here, Nate,” he said, after a full minute of sitting in complete silence.

“I’m not nuts, y’know,” Nathan muttered, gazing out the windscreen, “I still think you’re a goddamn menace.”

Duke laughed after a beat, relieved to hear Nathan talking sense. “Well, thanks.”

Nathan turned his head, looked at Duke with a shocking amount of lucidity in his eyes. He seemed to be making a decision of some kind, and the intimacy of that– of _conscious intent–_ was unmistakable. This meant more than any kiss ever could.

“But I trust you,” Nathan continued, “and I’m putting everything in your hands. You could… You could destroy me, if you wanted. I’ve never experienced this kind of physical sensation before. You could _annihilate_ me.”

“I won’t,” Duke promised quickly.

Nathan nodded.

It seemed like he was going to say something more, but he didn’t. He just got out of the car, closed the door softly.

Duke watched him walk away.

 

 


	12. freeze

Duke must have been in some kind of fucking shock. He must _surely_ have been, because he actually went back to work, closed up the place after midnight, and went home to his boat like this was some kind of normal goddamn day.

It didn’t hit him until he went to bed, until he was looking up at the ceiling and letting his mind wander past the haze of confused surreality that he’d been living in since Nathan had stepped up to him and broken every rule that Duke had taught himself to live by.  _By sucking you off._ The words had been echoing in Duke's head all night, but it was only now that they took hold of him and solidified, panic whipping through him as violently as a shockwave.

He sat up fast. So fast that his bed jerked, the frame groaning in protest of the movement.

“I kissed Nathan,” he whispered.

The silence of his boat didn’t have any answers for him, so he said it again;

“I kissed _Nathan.”_

No answers were forthcoming. Fuck, sometimes Duke hated being a lone wolf. He had nobody to talk to, no one to reassure him that this was the right play, and not just another giant fucking mistake that he would regret _forever._ He watched reflections, hazy splashes of light, dancing across his wall from the gentle waves outside, and was suddenly hyperaware of the sheets softly resting against his body. Would Nathan see him, like this? Would Nathan be here, in this bed, beside him? The image didn’t work in his head– he’d spent so many nights fantasising that the idea of this _really happening_ was absurd. It felt like an empty concept, a false thing. And if he was feeling this confused, he couldn't even begin to imagine how  _Nathan_ was feeling.

Duke lay back down, feeling ill for reasons he couldn’t pinpoint. This was all too much, too fast. He wanted to believe this was the right thing to do. He _wanted_ this so much, but…

“Nathan wants me to fuck him,” he told the emptiness of his home.

It didn’t help to say it aloud.

 

 


	13. seeing

He didn’t see Nathan for three more days, but honestly? He figured they were both glad for the distance, even if a part of him thought they should at least have _coffee_ before they started fucking.

Nathan was back at work, which meant his presence was invisible beside Duke, but there all the same. People talked about him, about the Chief’s son with his strong jaw and his heavy eyes. His impromptu holiday had everyone buzzing. Christ, Duke had only come back to Haven out of some kind of warped emotional desire to find a place he could call home _-_  if he ever left for good, he knew he wouldn’t miss the _gossip_. He was certain, without a doubt, that Vince and Dave would’ve been hounding Nathan with pestering inquiries about why he’d been away and what was happening. It was almost hilarious to imagine.

He stayed up late waiting for Nathan’s shadow to darken his (figurative) doorstep, and for two nights was disappointed.

Then, on the third night, he wasn’t.

He was moving stock when Nathan arrived. And he was wearing a tight white singlet, tattoos bold and vivid beneath the sweat on his bare arms; part of him was _thrilled_ to be so inappropriately dressed _._ Nathan was wearing a button-down sweater and shined shoes (terribly _proper_  clothing), a bottle of wine in one fist and a blush on his cheeks. Duke saw Nathan’s eyes move up and down, in a way they never had before, and he straightened up just so Nathan could get a good look at him.

Yeah. Yeah, he _knew_ he looked great.

“Nathan,” Duke greeted him, sweeping a hand back through his loose hair, dragging it out of his eyes. Nathan swallowed hard, squinted slightly.

“You’re showing off.”

“Showing off what?” Duke asked innocently as Nathan fidgeted on the dock, holding the wine tighter.

“You know.”

“Do I?”

“…You’re a goddamn peacock, Duke,” Nathan muttered, still not advancing down onto the boat, “and a pain in the ass.”

Duke laughed heartily, falling into old habits, the ebb and flow of flirtatious conversation not unknown to him (not by _any_ stretch of the imagination). But this was Nathan, and this was a unique goddamn case, so he sighed heavily and gave up the game.

“C’mon,” he held out a hand to help Nathan down onto the boat, “sorry, I’ll quit it.”

Nathan stared at his outstretched palm, and it took Duke a terrible few seconds to realise what he had just done. But before he could retract the offer, Nathan took his hand, breath hitching slightly as he made his suddenly shaky way down onto the boat. Duke helped Nathan down carefully, exasperated at his own absent-mindedness, heart hammering hard against his ribs.

Nathan held on even when he was on the boat, their hands falling down lower, until they were just two men standing on a boat  _holding hands._

Shit.

 _Shit_ , this was getting to Duke more than he’d planned.

Eventually, Nathan let go, held up the wine. Interrupting the moment. Duke nodded, took the bottle like he planned to fucking _inspect_ it or something. Christ, he was being a damn schoolboy about this.

“Good choice,” he said.

Nathan’s mouth quirked up into a peculiar smile, his face softer than Duke had ever seen it. He’d tried to style his hair, Duke noticed, and the small effort was oddly touching.

“I was gonna buy flowers,” Nathan admitted, eyes flickering to the side like he suddenly found boat mechanisms _so_ fascinating.

“Flowers, why?”

“Well, that’s what people do, isn’t it? On,” Nathan licked his lips, still looking away, “On dates.”

Duke blinked. Held the wine a little tighter, blinked again.

“Uh,” he eventually hedged, “is that what this is? A date?”

Nathan’s eyes moved back to him, more solemn now. He looked down at his feet, drawing breath to speak, and Duke wondered when Nathan’s seriousness had possessed the ability to make him feel an unspeakable tug of worry in his chest.

“Nate? What is it?”

“Why don’t we get the elephant out of the room, huh?” Nathan murmured.

“What… elephant?”

Nathan raised his eyes, frowning heavily now. The fading light of the evening touched on his face tenderly, turning his eyes the colour of creamy coffee and freshly cut grass, and Duke was overwhelmed by the desire to kiss him.

“I told you my reasons for this. I told you how I… feel. But I still don’t know why you’re willing to do this for me.”

Duke took a second to process that. And another second to figure out how to respond, and yet another to convince himself that kissing Nathan, right here right now, was not the way to properly finish this conversation. This was _Nathan_ he was dealing with. Fastidious and determined in every aspect of life, especially personal. Not to mention the whole overstimulation physical contact thing.

“I, uh,” Duke cleared his throat, didn’t know how to continue. His cheeks were hot and he didn’t quite understand why.

“Come on, Duke. If I’m just another notch on your damn belt-”

“You’re not.” Duke interrupted him sharply, probably too quick for the insistence to be just casual. “Jesus, Nathan, you’re…”

“I’m what, Duke? What am I to you? What is _this_ to you?”

“I’m…” Duke sighed, feeling helpless, “I don’t…”

Nathan waited. Duke stalled, breathing in big lungfuls of salty air.

“Guess I… I never really hated you, Nathan.”

That wasn’t what he wanted to say. That wasn’t nearly enough, but it was all he could manage. The softness of his voice alone had a pulse of anxiety clenching through him, making him stiffen with fear, because there was a _confession_ there that Nathan could surely hear. He continued to look away, jaw tight, because this wasn’t just uncharted territory, this was… _new._ And frightening.

He was so determined not to meet Nathan’s eyes that he was surprised to feel a gentle touch against his cheek.

Nathan held his face tenderly, fingers cupping the shape of Duke’s jaw. Duke let his eyes slide closed, let the words he couldn’t quite speak fill the air. Nathan touched him like he was in worship, like he was afraid to break the moment by being too forceful. Duke could relate.

“I mean,” Duke laughed desperately, voice weak and his humour unconvincing, “you’re not an _unattractive_ man, Nate.”

Nathan laughed too, a quiet sound that could barely be heard above the waves. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

They stood there for a little longer. It was peaceful, in a way Duke hadn’t expected. The evening was turning to night, making him shiver beneath what few clothes he was wearing, but he figured it was only logical. If he was being laid bare emotionally, why not physically too?

When he opened his eyes, Nathan was gazing at him with a certain kind of curiosity, a reverential sort of analysis going on inside his head. Duke had never been observed by this before, and definitely never so closely. His lovers only ever wanted one thing from him. And _that,_ he was now sure, wasn't just what Nathan wanted.

What else he could give Nathan, Duke didn't know. But he was starting to realise that he was willing to give a great deal more than he had ever planned.

“I’m sorry I bullied you,” Duke whispered suddenly. "When we were kids."

“It’s okay.” Nathan reassured him, shrugging.

“Sorry about the tacks, too. That was pretty damn bad. With the whole ritual humiliation thing, and all.”

“Yeah,” Nathan chuckled, hand falling from Duke’s face. “That was.”

Duke opened his mouth to reply, but then realised he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to banter, he didn’t want to joke about childhood grievances.

“Can I kiss you?”

Nathan’s jovial smile dimmed, replaced by something… _quieter._ He looked vulnerable like this, his face small and shadowed in the darkening light. He looked younger. Duke wanted to reassure him, wanted to offer promises of love and care, but it seemed he didn’t need to. Nathan nodded, eyes darting down with barely concealed fear.

Duke leaned forward, slowly, until their mouths met. Just a touch of lips.

Nothing more.

When he leaned back, Nathan still looked afraid, but he was smiling. Thankful that Duke hadn't gone further. Duke felt a flush of pride.

 _We’ll get through this together,_ he wanted to say, but didn’t. Not yet.

“Come on,” he said instead, “I’ll get us some dinner, okay? Think I can whip up some more paella for you, given how much you liked it last time.”

Nathan’s smile grew, his eyes brightened by the expression.

"Sounds great, Duke."

 

 


	14. spark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a reader of mine was kind enough to point out that I had mixed up the names of the Grey Gull and the Cape Rogue in a previous chapter..... it is now fixed. I don't have a beta reader (and have only recently rewatched Haven), so please note that small mistakes like that will probably occur. Thank you!

Duke busied himself with making paella, while Nathan volunteered his efforts washing up dirty dishes and setting the table. For two men who were about to have sex, they were awfully…  _civilised._ Duke threw on a flannel shirt over his singlet, leaned his weight against the counter as he cooked. The sight of Nathan wearing rubber gloves, tucked into a knitted sweater and well-worn jeans, made Duke  _want_ things that he’d never considered before. The kitchen was quiet apart from the quiet sizzling of food and clinks of utensils, and Duke found himself thinking far too hard about how he could definitely get used to this. The domesticity of it.

“It’s kinda weird,” Nathan remarked quietly, “hanging around with you, and not fighting.”

“ _That’s_ the weirdest thing about this?”

Nathan smiled, one of those shy half-grins. “It feels nice, is all.”

Duke kept his eyes intently trained on the paella, nodding silently back. Yeah, it  _did_ feel nice. And fuck if the words  _husband material_ weren’t flashing, unbidden and unexpected, in Duke’s mind whenever he looked over at Nathan. This was stupid. This was  _ridiculous._

“Hey,” Nathan continued, pulling off the gloves and lifting the plug from the sink, “how much longer does that have left to cook?”

Duke shrugged. He wasn’t that precise about cooking, as much as he took pride in being able to make good food; a ramshackle life had led him to be rather casual about such things.

“About ten minutes, I s’pose,” he replied, stirring a slow circle through the gently simmering meal. He was so busy preoccupying himself with cooking that he missed Nathan’s preparatory deep breath, the way Nathan bit at his lip and let his eyes close in a moment of nervousness.

Then he felt a hand slide onto his waist.

He went still, of course, freezing where he stood. Nathan pressed up against him, body to body, mouth coming to rest at the nape of Duke’s neck.

“Nathan…” Duke whispered, because he didn’t know what to say, but was definitely sure that he should say  _something._

Nathan kissed the curvature of Duke’s spine, not replying. He was gentle, still exploring, still unsure; like a greedy child, hungry for more but uncertain how to take it. His hands felt bigger on Duke’s body than Duke had imagined, but he supposed it made sense– he didn’t often sleep with men. He was used to petite palms and soft skin, not long fingers and calloused knuckles.

“Turn around,” Nathan demanded softly.

Duke did, feeling lost. Nathan looked at him with as much honesty as Duke could ever have asked for, taking hold of Duke’s waist and pushing him back against the counter. Duke licked at his lips as Nathan’s fingers wandered to his belt.

“You don’t have to.”

“I know.” Nathan replied. And that was it.  _That_  was all he had to say on the matter, before he was sinking to his knees and unbuckling Duke, unzipping him slowly. He was careful as he pulled down Duke’s jeans, tugging them until they were midway down Duke’s thighs– he looked up with a question in his eyes, a reluctance in his beautiful face, and Duke answered him by reaching down to rest his hand against Nathan’s hair. Just holding, not pulling. Not hurting. Nathan’s eyelids fluttered, his lips parting with a delicious helplessness, and Duke couldn’t  _believe_ how much power he held.

Nathan pulled down Duke’s underwear, too, taking a condom out of his pocket. He looked down as he ripped it open, and Duke clung to the bench, wondering if Nathan had ever seen a goddamn cock before. Shit– here he was, still fully dressed, getting a blowjob like he was a teenager again. It felt messy, spontaneous, and the abruptness of this was leaving him lightheaded.

Nathan rolled the condom onto him, and Duke shuddered, just knowing what that  _meant._

“Nathan-”

“This isn’t my first time.” Nathan told him flatly. “You aren’t my first man.”

Duke raised his eyebrows. He had every intention of inquiring ( _who_ and  _where_ and  _when?),_ but Nathan slid his palm smoothly up and down, so he shut up in favour of not moaning aloud.

“I tried lots of things, as a teenager. When you can’t feel anything, you… you try and find something that you  _can_ feel.” Nathan continued, the movements of his wrist fluid and practiced. His eyes became unfocussed, glassy as the memories hit him. There was vulnerability in his expression, a frightened look that had Duke shifting his hand down, holding the side of Nathan’s face. Trying not to wonder what Nathan had let people do to him, in pursuit of physical sensation. He brushed his thumb over Nathan’s temple, caressing the gentle curve of bone beneath skin, and thought how strange it was to be so  _tender_ during an act so visceral. Nathan sighed shakily, tilting his head into Duke’s touch.

“I don’t want to think about that now, Duke,” Nathan whispered, “I- I can’t. Not tonight.”

Duke nodded, eyebrows drawn together into a worried frown. Nathan’s half-lidded eyes sharpened, and Duke knew immediately what he was thinking, knew that Nathan didn’t want to be pitied. Just as he was summoning reassuring words and supportive encouragements, Nathan took him in hand, arched his neck forward, opened his mouth– and, without any further hesitation, swallowed Duke’s cock smoothly.

“Oh fuck,” Duke breathed, grabbing Nathan’s hair in an automatic expression of shock. He forced his hand to open, to relax, even as his knees quivered and his abdomen twisted tight with boiling heat. Nathan looked up at him, cheekbones accentuated by his wide mouth, lips unspeakably soft through the stretch of latex. His diamond-shaped eyes were dark in the dim light of Duke’s kitchen, and he looked  _exquisite._ He looked young and demure, like the rebellious boy Duke had grown to love throughout years of squabbling conflict.

Sighing unsteadily, Duke braced one hand on the benchtop and preoccupied himself playing with Nathan’s hair. As the suddenness of it all faded, the quietness returned, flavoured with slick noises as Nathan ducked his head forward and backward. He closed his eyes, moans whimpering up from the depths of his throat whenever Duke’s fingers brushed his forehead.

“You’re good at this, Nate,” Duke told him weakly. And  _fuck,_ Nathan  _was_ good. He was better than good. It had been a damn long time since Duke had met someone who could do this, who could take him so deeply and so smoothly. The flatness of Nathan’s tongue swirled against him in syrupy, eager drags, his cheeks hollowed just to make Duke tremble.

“You’ve got, like,” Duke tried to breathe steadily, “a supernatural advantage here, Nathan.  _Shit.”_

He paused, swaying slightly as Nathan pressed forward, the tip of his nose brushing Duke’s skin. There were filthy words, obscene endearments and praises, hovering on his tongue, but he didn’t dare tell Nathan those things. He wasn’t sure either of them were ready for that. This still felt tentative, explorative,  _new_.

So he just let his body roll, mindless and stuttering, to the pace that Nathan was setting. He let the heat build, honey-thick and unstoppable, a tightness coiling inside him that he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold back for too long. Nathan shifted where he was kneeling, knees spread wide, a thick solid line straining filling out his jeans. Grinding against nothing, seeking friction he couldn’t get. Fuck. Duke would’ve told him to jerk off, but it occurred to him (yet again) that Nathan wouldn’t even be able to feel his own touch. There was something about that, something about the fact that Nathan’s desperation could be answered by him- and him  _alone_ \- that made Duke so aroused he nearly lost it. A moan, his first of the night, punched out of him. He knew he couldn’t fuck Nathan, not yet, but he wanted to. He imagined it. He imagined pushing Nathan up against a wall somewhere, guiding himself inside. He imagined the way Nathan would whimper and grunt, trying to hold back. He wondered if Nathan would like insistent kisses and a hand over his mouth, whether he would like it a little  _rough_ when he got used to feeling again.

“Nathan, I-”

Then he was gone. Tremors shuddering up his spine, breaking him apart, sending him over the edge. The broken noises slipping from his mouth weren’t planned ( _none_ of this was planned), but he supposed it was only fair. This was what Nathan wanted. This way, they were both vulnerable, both raw and shaking and loose.

The spike of white heat faded, eventually, leaving him to sag against the counter, panting and humming. Nathan straightened up, and Duke was torn between arousal and hysterical laughter at the sight of his softening cock falling from Nathan’s mouth. Surely this was all some extremely vivid dream.

Nathan wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, the dampness of spit making his lips glisten. He sat back on his heels and looked up, head tipped back, throat bare.

“You should probably stir that paella,” he said flatly, “it’ll burn otherwise.”

Duke blinked hard, still struggling for breath. “You  _smartass.”_

Nathan grinned. Then, without preamble or hesitation, he pulled the condom off Duke and rose to his feet, going to put it in the bin. Duke wiped himself down, tucked himself back in. As he was doing up his belt, the clinking of metal an oddly significant testimony to what they had just done, Nathan returned, walking unsteadily. His jeans were straining, tight at the front, and Duke realised that they weren’t done.

“How do you… How do you want to do this?”

Nathan laughed helplessly, sounding just as clueless as Duke felt. He looked down at his feet, all the more loveable for the honesty of his inexperience. Duke wanted to hug him. Kiss him. Fix him.

“Okay, look you… You know where my bedroom is, yeah? You’ve searched this damn boat enough times, I figure you’ve got the layout down. Why don’t you go there and… do whatever you need to, and I’ll join you after I’ve got this dinner sorted?”

Nathan didn’t reply, too frightened to offer words. But he did smile, a fleeting expression meant just for Duke.

And that, really, was all Duke could have ever asked for.

 

***

 

Duke gave Nathan ten minutes before he joined him in the bedroom. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected. In his fantasies, Nathan was generally laid out like Christmas dinner, lazing naked on the sheets like some kind of sun-warmed cat. Obviously  _that_ wasn’t how this was going to go down (hey, a man could dream), but he sure hadn’t predicted the sight that greeted him.

Nathan was sitting on the edge of the bed. His fingers were knotted into a tight ball, legs pressed hard together as if he could hide the erection that still, absurdly, was trapped by constrictive denim.

“Hey,” Duke said, dropping smoothly to his knees in front of Nathan, his chest unexpectedly tight, “hey, what is it?”

Nathan shook his head, lips pressed together hard, wetness glimmering in his eyes. He was crying. Or he was trying very, very hard not to.

“Sorry, it’s,” Nathan laughed again, the sound more strained this time, more frightened. “The intensity of all this, it's…”

“It’s okay,” Duke reassured him quickly, “if you don’t want to do this tonight, we don’t have to. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Nathan swallowed, the lines of his throat tightening and moving.

“Maybe I want you to.”

Duke’s eyes widened. “…What?”

Nathan’s fingers unlaced, his hands moving to his belt. Duke wanted to stop him, wanted to hold his hands still, but he knew that his touch was practically kryptonite right now– that would not have helped matters.

“Nathan, stop, stop. Just talk to me. Tell me where your head’s at.”

“I just want to get this over with, Duke.” Nathan snapped, tears beading in his eyelashes now. He always had been quick to anger, when he was feeling wounded. “I just want to feel it, so I can stop  _worrying_ about it.”

“Feel… Feel what?”

Nathan looked away resolutely, over at the wall. Duke realised fairly fast what Nathan was getting at, and to say he was startled would’ve been the understatement of the fucking century.

“You’ve… You’ve never come before, have you?”

Nathan’s mouth tightened, his chin quivering with the urge to sob. The tears broke free from his eyelashes, cascading down his cheeks, and he swiped at them angrily.

“Jesus,” Duke breathed, thinking,  _no wonder you were so fucking miserable all these years._

Nathan glared at him, apparently entirely aware what Duke wasn’t saying aloud. He started to get up, rash as ever in the heat of the moment, but Duke held him down by his thighs.

“Wait, wait,” Duke insisted, “I’m not judging, I promise. I just want this to be good for you, Nate. We don’t have to force it.”

Nathan was still glaring, so Duke straightened up and kissed him. It was probably a risky move, given the precariousness of all this, but when Nathan went slack and relaxed beneath him, he knew it had been a risk worth taking. A whimper broke free from Nathan’s mouth, swallowed up by Duke’s lips, and he suddenly had an idea.

“We don’t need to do that tonight,” he whispered, moving forward so that he could kneel on the bed, “I don’t need to touch you there.”

“What-”

“Just trust me,” Duke said, undoing the buttons on Nathan’s sweater, “please, Nathan, just trust me.”

He guided Nathan backwards, easing him down onto the bed until he was hovering over him, knees braced on either side of Nathan’s waist. No matter the temptation to blanket Nathan’s body with his own, no matter the temptation to grind and fuck down into him, he didn’t. He held himself up, so that the only point at which their skin was touching was their mouths.

Nathan went limp, falling still and silent as Duke unbuttoned his sweater. His legs were still hanging off the mattress at the knees, feet loosely dangling. He quivered, glassy-eyed and helpless, when Duke moved his head down and sucked a pink blush into the curve where his shoulder joined his neck. Duke hummed, letting his breath warm Nathan’s skin, summoning all those filthy words he’d kept quiet before.

“You’re amazing, Nathan. Wish we’d been doing this years ago. Wish I’d triggered my Trouble when we were teenagers, so we could’ve been fucking all this time.”

Nathan shook from head to toe, the sensation pulsing through him, so intense it seemed he couldn’t speak. Duke was gripped by the sudden urge to wrap his hand around Nathan’s throat and hold tight, feel his pulse drag and his eyelids flutter, but that wasn’t a game he could play here. No, this wasn’t about him. This was about Nathan, solely and completely. This was an act of worship, as tender and gentle as the lapping of waves against a welcoming shore.

“You want me to give you more, huh? Want me inside you, one day?”

He let his voice dip, low and deep, his tongue painting a wet stripe up Nathan’s neck. A choked, guttural noise ripped free from Nathan’s chest, turning quickly into a breathless whine. Duke could almost feel the arousal pumping off Nathan in waves, building quick and fast, overwhelming and all-consuming. He pushed Nathan’s sweater aside more, the soft fabric bunching up around the curve of one shoulder- he bit down, gently sinking his teeth into hard muscle, enough to make an impression.

Nathan’s hips quavered, pushing upwards. Just a little more. Just a  _little more,_ and Nathan would be gone.

“Gonna give it all to you one day. Gonna open you up, give you everything you need. Or maybe you’d like me to ride you, huh? You want to fuck me?”

Then, finally, he grabbed Nathan’s hand, pressed it beneath his own shirt, letting Nathan be overcome by the sensation of skin on skin.

“I’ll give it to you, Nate,” Duke told him, a hint of something broken and  _honest_ threading itself through his voice, “I’ll let you do to me what nobody else has.”

Maybe it was the magnitude of that promise, or the genuine emotion behind his words– maybe it was just the roll of his body against Nathan’s hand, or maybe it was the heat of his mouth against Nathan’s neck. Who knew. Maybe it was  _everything._ Whatever it was that pushed Nathan into oblivion, it  _worked._ Nathan arched off the bed, fast and urgent, shuddering himself into frantic, rutting thrusts. He jerked and sobbed, throwing his head to the side, a pained wail breaking free from behind his clenched teeth. He threw a hand over his face, gasping, a peculiar hiccup falling from his mouth as his body was rocked by long, drawn-out quakes.

And Duke watched.

He watched as Nathan fell to  _pieces._

 

 


	15. fade

Nathan passed out.

Literally.

Fuck, Duke was so worried he’d _broken_ Nathan that he flapped frantically around for a good ten minutes (thinking about subspace and overstimulation and all the things that could happen to a _normal_ person in the midst of sex) before he realised there was nothing he could do. Nathan was sleeping soundly, eyelids sealed closed, mouth parted with gentle breaths. He looked peaceful. Content. _Relaxed,_ in a way Duke had never before witnessed.

So he lay down, keeping a respectful distance between their bodies, feeling dazed and still slightly unsure about what the fuck had just occurred.

 _Oh well,_ he thought tiredly, _guess I’ve got until tomorrow to figure it out._

 

 


	16. together

Duke was somewhere between waking and dreaming when he felt a thigh press up against his knee, the fabric of denim rubbing in a soft grind. He wasn’t unused to the presence of people in his bed, so at first he did nothing but linger, content to float in the precipice of whatever dreamland he'd been inhabiting.

At some point, memories began to trickle back into his awareness. A pulse of warmth, of sated arousal and nervousness, hummed through his veins. With an overwhelming, apocalyptic sense of disbelief, he remembered _who_ he was in bed with.

When he opened his eyes, Nathan was lying next to him, face turned away towards the other side of the room. The light was dim, the sunrise not yet gracing them with its presence, but he could see the gently straining landscape of Nathan’s throat and jaw, see the way his chest rose and fell with quiet breaths. His sweater was still rucked up beneath his shoulders, and the sight– when paired with his mussed hair and closed eyes– struck Duke as being unexpectedly vulnerable. Nathan looked beautiful, sleeping like this, and the moment was almost too intimate for Duke to stand. They hadn’t even had sex (christ, they were both still _fully clothed)_ , but they may as well have, because Nathan’s every barrier had crumbled. This couldn’t be undone.

He watched the sparse fan of Nathan’s lashes, thin and fine as strands of wheat, fluttering as he dreamed. What curiosities occupied the subconscious of Nathan Wuornos, he didn’t know.

The only thing Duke _did_ know for sure was that he wouldn’t have given this moment up for anything.

He didn’t reach out and touch Nathan, like he wished he could, because he wasn’t keen for this moment to end. It turned out that he didn’t have to, though, because there was the smallest hitch to Nathan’s breath, a tiny gasp as he emerged from unconsciousness into waking. Then his eyes were open, his gaze initially hazy and unfocussed as he surveyed the scene around him. His stare quickly sharpened, shyness creeping into his face, their eyes meeting with an unspoken sense of disbelief. _Yeah, this is what it’s come to,_ Duke thought, _this is what we are now._

“Hey,” Duke offered.

“…Hi.” Nathan replied, voice thick with sleep, mumbled and exhausted. He rubbed at his eyes, seeming to shrink in on himself as he recalled the previous night.

“Are you…” Duke propped himself up on one arm, trying to keep his voice light, trying not to frighten Nathan with a serious tone. He untied the band precariously maintaining his messy ponytail, and shook his hair down around his shoulders before daring to quietly ask, “Are you okay?”

Nathan sighed into his palm. “This is weird, isn’t it?”

“No,” Duke insisted, “are you _okay,_ Nathan?”

“I’m fine.”

“That’s not the answer I want to hear. I know you’re a stubborn son of a bitch, but if we’re gonna do this together, then we’re doing this _right._  I need you to be honest with me."

Nathan frowned, his hand drifting away from his face. Duke realised the inference behind his words (the yearning way he said the word _together)_ almost immediately, and he flopped down onto his back, heaving out a frustrated sigh.

“I guess I,” he began, before Nathan could speak, “I’d be sad if you just wanted me for my dick, Nate. I don’t want you to use me because you can feel me, I want…”

It was Nathan’s turn to lift himself up onto one arm, and Duke’s turn to look resolutely away. His cheek were hot, his throat constricted by anxiety, and he thought, _fuck it._

“I want to be with you.”

The words hung in the air. Heavy. Unexpected. _Loud._

“And I know you’re- I know you can’t handle physical contact the way most people can, but I can wait for you, I promise. And what we’ve done so far, fuck, if that’s all you want then I’m good for it. I don’t even _need_ sex with you. Shit, you’re like _crack cocaine_ to me. Even the things we’ve done so far… I can’t- I can’t fucking get enough, and I think that’s why I’ve messed with you all these years. I didn’t- I didn’t know how to say it, and I knew you hated my guts, so I- I found an excuse to be near you. I preferred you despising me to you not being in my life at all. And _no,_ Nathan, this _isn’t_ weird, because I’ve wanted this since I we were seven _fucking_ years old, and I’m _done_ pretending that you’re not the person I’ve always-”

Nathan’s hand landed on his arm. Duke closed his eyes, tried to breathe.

He waited for Nathan to say something. He waited for so long it felt like torture.

Then he felt the mattress dip and bend with the shifting of Nathan’s weight. Lips settled against his, one of those feather-light kisses that Duke was starting to adore. He felt morning whiskers scratch against his skin, and couldn't help but arch up into the kiss, pressing against where the warmth of Nathan's mouth rested. Fuck, he gave way so  _easily_ whenever Nathan touched him. He'd never been more surprised at his own softness, and the gentle care with which Nathan treated him only made him feel more besotted. Parts of him were broken, damaged beyond repair by pain he'd experienced far too young- and those parts felt soothed, quieted, showered by a tenderness that made his chest ache and swell. He wasn't even sure he could put it into words if he tried. He didn't feel like an orphan when he was with Nathan. He felt like he was home.

“I guess,” Nathan whispered, “I guess I never really hated you either, Duke.”

It wasn’t the words. It wasn’t the phrasing.

But Duke knew what Nathan meant all the same.

 

 


	17. caught

For all Duke’s insistence that this wasn’t weird, it certainly was _different._

He and Nathan had been squabbling their whole lives, practically, and they’d gone from hard-won acquaintances to lovers in such a short amount of time; where they’d previously exchanged tense, sarcastic jabs, they were now whispering quiet things against each other’s mouths, grinning with the delicious abandon of it all. For years now, Duke had privately been harbouring the hope that they could be friends again, but he could never have imagined this. He could never have imagined Nathan turning up on his boat at all hours of the night and day, and certainly could never have imagined setting foot in Nathan’s apartment, falling into bed with him after a warm meal and some wine.

Nathan offered up the physicality of his need with a shyness that Duke found both endearing and irresistible. Whenever he leaned in to kiss Nathan, to tug at the lapels of his jacket and unclip that police service belt, he was hyperaware of what he was doing. When hands slid beneath his waistband, direct and unflinching in their goal, he arched his hips into Nathan’s touch and wondered _how the hell_ they’d made it here. The trust between them was still tentative, but the genuine emotions between them were mutual, which meant that this was  _real._ This was a relationship that Duke could see lasting into the future. This wasn't just an affair or a kinky foray into gay sex (which, honestly, Duke had been fond of in the past); they were  _dating._ Secretly, but still.

They were  _committed._

That wasn’t to say Nathan wasn’t the infuriating control freak he’d always been. And yeah, Duke was still an irresponsible jackass. But that was cool. That was fine. Duke brought Nathan coffee at work, passively stalked him around town when he had nothing else to do, and offered him an endless menu of illegally imported seafood. Nathan resisted only as much as he could, only enough to sate his pride, before giving in with an exasperated laugh. He wasn’t looking to deny himself anything.

Neither of them were.

Which posed a problem because, as much as Nathan tried to be sneaky about their trysts, Haven was a small goddamn place. And nothing went on that wasn’t noticed. In a town full of mysterious occurrences and genetic mutations, people tended to be observant.

Audrey, for instance, was one such sharp-eyed soul.

For all her friendliness and her compassion, she was still a retired FBI agent in her prime– no _dumb blonde,_ that’s for sure. She sat back and watched Nathan become more and more cheerful, suspiciously so, taking long lunch breaks and acting weirdly friendly around Duke. She wasn’t _stupid._ The fact that Nathan thought he could hide anything was sort of insulting, but she didn’t take it personally. People generally forgot she was trained in lethal combat and target surveillance. Being underestimated gave her an edge.

Figuring out exactly _what_ Nathan was hiding? Well. That took some doing. Because, as smart as she was, the idea that Nathan and Duke were boning was ridiculous. They _hated_ each other.

Or, at least, they used to.

 

***

 

“Hello, friendly neighbourhood law enforcement,” Duke boisterously greeted Audrey and Nathan, swanning into their shared office with a tray of coffees.

“Hey, Duke,” Nathan replied, looking up with a smile– but he forced his face into a frown, immediately swallowing down his kneejerk positive reaction. Trying too hard. Audrey took one of the offered coffees, amused beyond measure. Oh yeah. This was going to be _fun_.

“This is official police time, Duke,” Nathan continued, voice lowered into a grumble that Audrey assumed was _meant_ to sound authoritative and grumpy. “You’re interrupting.”

“I am not.”

“You are.”

“Well,” Duke sighed loudly, sat on the edge of Nathan’s desk, “what’re you working on, then?”

Audrey watched as Duke grabbed at the files on Nathan’s desk, petulant in his attempts to seem annoying. Nathan reprimanded him, but there was a sparkle in his eyes. A genuine amusement, something softer than friendliness, reflected in the depths of Duke’s dark eyes.

“Why’re you in such a good mood, Duke?” Audrey asked innocently, lifting the coffee to her mouth. “Did you get laid or something?”

Duke blinked, expression going carefully blank. Nathan swallowed a gulp of coffee down hard, looked expectantly up at Duke like _he_ wasn’t the one sneaking off to the Cape Rogue every other night.

“Uh-”

“Come on, since when are you shy? What’s she like? Tall? Brunette? _Feisty?”_

Duke pursed his lips as if seriously considering the questions. “Tall… yes. Brunette, also yes. But feisty? No. More like… _dour.”_

Nathan choked on his coffee. Audrey raised an eyebrow and tried not to laugh. Oh shit. She was going to replay this in her head for the rest of eternity. This was some legitimate live-action comedy nonsense.

“Been drinking long, Wuornos?”

Nathan cast a miserable look down at his coffee-stained tie, and then glared at Duke. His expression, of course, was met with a bright grin.

“…I’m gonna go clean up.”

He walked off, undoing his tie as he went, and Audrey didn’t miss the way Duke’s eyes strayed _downwards,_ most certainly fixating on a less-than-proper part of Nathan’s body. She at least waited for the door to close before she spoke, though. She wasn’t an animal. The goal wasn’t to expose their (already poorly hidden) relationship to the world. She just wanted to have some fun.

“You two think you’re real slick, huh?”

Duke made an innocent face. Like that would help matters at all. He’d never been innocent in his _life._

“Is that an accusation, detective?”

“Oh, come _on._ ” She had another sip of her coffee, measured and calm. “How long have you two been together?”

He twitched where he sat. The disbelief itching at his façade was priceless to witness.

“…Me and who, Audrey…?”

“You and _Nathan.”_

He stared. For a long while.

“You…”

“Yup.”

“You know. You _knew?_ For- For how long? Jesus,” he jumped up off the desk, hands held out in an expression of utter shock, “Shit, Audrey, Nate doesn’t want anyone knowing, he’s _weird_ about that, what with his dad being generally disapproving of _everything_ and all, and I just don’t think he’s ready-”

She laughed, shook her head. “Relax, Duke-”

“You can’t tell anyone, Audrey- Have you? Have you told anyone? You better not have, or I swear-”

“You’ll what? Arrest me?” Audrey gestured vaguely in the direction of her badge, just to highlight the irony. The grin on her face was making her cheeks hurt. “I said _relax._ I haven’t told anyone. And I don’t mind, I really don’t. You two are cute! I just enjoyed watching you  _attempt_ to be subtle about it.”

He frowned. “You don’t… mind? But I thought you…”

“Thought I what?”

“I thought you had… y’know.”

“No, I don’t know.”

“You _know,”_ he sighed frustratedly, “ _feelings.”_

“What, for _Nathan?”_

He shrugged noncommittally, and she threw back her head to belt out an uncontrollable eruption of laughter. Duke watched from where he stood, hands still held out in front of him. He didn’t quite appear to know what was happening.

“Oh, boy,” she wiped at her eyes, “that’s hilarious.”

“Why is that hilarious?”

“Well, I have _dated_ before, Duke, but let’s just say Nathan isn’t my _type.”_

He blinked again. Harder this time, his face scrunching up into adorable confusion.

“Okay, Audrey, I’m feeling very…” he made a weird, sweeping gesture that didn’t really communicate much at all, “ _overwhelmed_ by all this, so could you just speak plain English-”

“I’m gay.”

Duke’s eyes grew wider. His hands fell to his side, mouth falling open in dumb disbelief. Yeah, _that_ was the ticket. A flat, bored tone of voice, delivering the final blow, those magical two words. This was all the comedy Audrey would ever, _ever_ need. What an amazing day. Fuck. She needed to leave just so that she could go cry with laughter.

“I’ll leave you and Nathan to have a chat,” she said, rising to her feet and smoothly walking past him, "thanks for the coffee."

He waved vaguely at her back. She suspected that was all the coherency she was going to get.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (((okay, full disclosure, I shipped the _fuck_ out of Audrey and Claire for some reason. so that kinda caused me to develop a headcanon that audrey was gay, or at least bi, and i thought what the heck, this is an AU right??? so why not make her gay, and still as awesome as ever))))
> 
>  
> 
> aNYWAY. this was a stress-relief chapter, because (on top of giant emotional things going on in my life), i am also experiencing the resurgence of physical injuries as well as bruised ribs/a bruised sternum. which is great!!!!! (sarcasm!!!!) i can't promise regular updates, but hey, i hope you enjoy them as they come. my life is seriously, seriously rough right now, so i'd appreciate comments if you could take the time to leave some ♡ also i wrote this while on painkillers, and don't have a beta reader, so please forgive any mistakes  
> 


	18. reassure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Darn it, I caved and wrote some more. Once again, the next few chapters aren't proofread, but I hope you enjoy them!!

Duke cornered Nathan in his office and broke the news to him gently, spoke the words quietly enough that he hoped it wouldn’t hurt. _Audrey knows._ Nathan’s eyes widened, his posture stiffening, jaw clamping down tight. He recoiled and began to walk away, making to leave and go chase after his partner. Duke held him still.

“Hey, hey. C’mon, it’s fine-”

“No, Duke, it isn’t.” Nathan insisted shakily. “I have to make sure-”

“She won’t tell anyone.”

“I can’t just-”

“What, take her word for it? This is _Audrey,_ Nathan. Give her some credit!” Duke tried to keep his voice to a low whisper, but his tone still sounded incredulous and exasperated. He didn’t want that, didn’t want to worsen the situation by making Nathan feel he was being judged, so he lifted a hand onto the curve of Nathan’s neck and held him there. Soothed him through touch, watched the way Nathan’s eyes immediately closed.

They both relaxed into stillness. The distant sounds of other police officers within the station only served to emphasise the silence between them, settling down against their bodies as if drawing attention to the _distance_ that they couldn’t close, the gap between their chests. Nathan leaned into Duke’s touch, and it was obvious what he wanted, what he _needed_ \- but Duke couldn’t give that to him. Not here.

When Nathan finally opened his eyes, lips parted and breaths hastening, Duke was looking evenly at him. There were no illusions, no questions as to what would happen next.

“Take the rest of the day off.” Duke told him, and it wasn’t really a suggestion. He pressed his thumb over Nathan’s jugular, just to see a shiver hum through Nathan’s body. “Meet me at your place.”

Nathan blinked sluggishly, brief annoyance flitting over his face, accompanied by a furious blush. “Don’t order me around.”

Duke smirked, eyelids dipping low, his expression pure _filth._ “Why not?”

Nathan fidgeted where he stood. Duke knew he’d have to stop now, because _nothing_ turned Nathan on more than being told what to do, and he didn’t want his physically-numb boyfriend to get a boner in the middle of a police station. That would be… problematic.

He let go of Nathan’s neck, stepped away. Nathan seemed to reel at the loss of contact, his cheeks pink and his hands bunched into fists.

“You idiot,” he muttered petulantly.

Duke laughed. He’d never wanted to fuck anyone more in his life.

 

 


	19. regret

Garland Wuornos watched his son leave the police station.

Helplessness and shame settled into his stomach, heavy like tar, choking him up and making him wish he’d done better to raise the kid. He took a few deep breaths, reminded himself that he’d done all he could after his wife died. It wasn’t his fault that he’d passed this goddamn curse on, and ensured he’d never be able to hug his own child and make it _matter,_ make it _comforting_ in the face of emotional pain.

His son was seeing someone. His son was _in love_ with someone, if Garland’s instincts were to be believed.

And he was afraid that his own damn father would judge him for it.

 

 


	20. distract

Nathan’s skin was a creamy brown, the colour of coffee and hazelnuts. Duke kissed his way up the slope of Nathan’s thighs, mouth wandering towards the pale skin at Nathan’s hip. Nathan was hard, his abdomen being painted with slickness as he lay still and panted, cock pressing against his lower stomach. Duke was still half-dressed, shirt discarded and pants undone, but Nathan was entirely naked. This was often how it went. Duke didn’t think all that much about the power dynamic between them because it felt… right. It felt natural, to have settled into this balance. He wasn’t in control, not really, despite being the only person whose touch could affect Nathan; he performed to the tempo set by Nathan’s needs, a servant to whatever Nathan desired. He’d never expected to be _content_ to serve at somebody else’s altar.

“You good, Nate?” He asked, lips moving against Nathan’s hipbone.

“Yeah,” Nathan replied quietly. He tangled his fingers in Duke’s hair. Just holding, not tugging or yanking– just like Duke had held him, that first night in the kitchen, when Nathan had gotten down on his knees. It was that gentleness that got to Duke, that really pushed him over the edge into something simmering, something that boiled inside him with all the patience of a saint. He could do this forever. He could _wait_ forever. He just wanted to touch, and be touched. He just wanted to be with Nathan.

“You were pretty freaked out today, at the station. Wanna talk about it?”

He took Nathan’s cock in hand, lips still decorating Nathan’s waist with kisses. Nathan’s thighs opened wider as he arched his back off the bed, shocked by the suddenness.

“No,” Nathan breathed, “I can think of _better things_ you mouth can do than _talk,_ Duke.”

“Oh, I see,” Duke chuckled, sliding his palm up and down, “so now _you’re_ telling me what to do, huh?”

Nathan groaned. “You _asshole.”_

“I should tie you up some time,” Duke mused, still slowly jerking him off, “I think you’d like it.”

“Please,” Nathan begged, voice cracking, words raw and stripped down to the bare essence of his desperation, _“Please,_ Duke-”

Duke ignored him. He continued to move his hand, not wanting to push Nathan too far, but eager to continue this as long as they possibly could. Nathan jerked and shuddered, moaning louder now. Duke reached up an arm, his hand seeking and wandering, until his fingers found Nathan’s lips. Nathan obediently curled his tongue around the thumb that dragged his bottom lip down, dipping into his mouth. He sucked, eyes closed, hips jerking upwards into Duke’s touch. Duke swore under his breath, head arched upwards so that he could watch.

“Fuck, Nate,” he hissed, “you and your _oral fixation,_ god _damnit,_ do you have any idea what you do to me? Do you have _any idea_ what I want to do to you?”

Nathan hollowed his cheeks, opened his eyes. The look he gave Duke was both sultry and childish, but the superior pettiness of the expression didn’t last too long. Duke tightened his grip, done with the playing around, and Nathan started to shake convulsively. He put two fingers in Nathan’s mouth, pressing against his tongue, dizzy at the sight of Nathan’s open-mouthed helplessness. Any other man might’ve mocked Nathan for his hairtrigger sensitivity, but Duke didn’t give a shit that Nathan generally orgasmed in under five minutes. It didn’t matter.

“Come for me,” he whispered, “that’s it, Nate, come for me.”

Nathan did. Duke watched, hungry like an animal, like some kind of _beast._ Nathan’s breath pitched into high, soft sounds, the exhalations warm against the skin of Duke’s hand. When he was done, limp and sleepy, Duke rolled him onto his side, hurriedly yanking down his own pants.

“Duke,” Nathan mumbled, “what’re you-”

“It’s okay. Just trust me. Trust me.”

He lay behind Nathan, wrapping an arm around Nathan’s chest and pulling him close, so that he was pressed up against Nathan’s back. He gripped the base of his cock, guided it between Nathan’s legs.

“Press your thighs together.”

Nathan did, cheeks burning scarlet, body trembling as he bent himself against the shape of Duke. He was so loose, all tenseness melted from his lean body, lying lax and helpless in Duke’s arms. And he was _safe_ here, protected by the knowledge he’d only have to give the word and Duke would stop, but being manhandled like this… it made him aroused beyond belief. It aroused _Duke_ too, sent him into a rutting frenzy, burying himself between the milky-soft skin of Nathan’s inner thighs.

“You feel so good, Nate. You know how good you feel? How good you _make_ me feel?” His voice was a growl, and the answering sigh that Nathan gave was helpless and voiceless, a sob hovering in his throat. He was always like this, towards the end. Overstimulated. Duke adjusted his hold, pulling Nathan closer to him, and Nathan’s head lolled where it rested on the pillow. He was jerked and rocked by the movements of Duke’s body, the thrusts that were met with the supple, silky resistance of skin. The fact that Duke could do anything to him right now, but wouldn’t, was addictive. Nathan was entirely at his mercy.

“Gonna come,” Duke groaned, bucking his hips frantically, “Gonna come, Nate, _shit-”_

He finally stilled, hand pressed hard against Nathan’s chest, leaving imprints of white in the wake of his fingers. Nathan gasped in sympathy as Duke cried out, something warm and immense pummelling through his chest as come splashed between his legs. He wondered what the sex would be like, when they had it properly, when they went all the way together. He couldn't even _begin_ to imagine anything more intense than this.

Duke held on for several long, trembling seconds. Then he let go, draping heavy over Nathan, lying against him like a puppet with his strings cut. Nathan stayed where he was, unable to move. He could feel himself slipping away into unconsciousness, darkness settling into his brain like a fog.

“Audrey won’t tell anyone,” Duke promised him in a breathy whisper, “we’re safe. You’re safe.”

Nathan hummed in agreement, in gratitude. He wanted to say more. He wanted to thank Duke for his patience, for his body, for his gentle kisses and his support.

But he didn’t need to.

 

 


	21. dance

Nathan awoke to the sound of gentle sizzling. The scents of breakfast, of crunchy bacon and creamy eggs, wafted through his dreams until he was blinking himself awake, drowsy and sleepy and more content than he’d ever felt in his life.

Duke always seemed to know when Nathan needed reassurance, when the sensation overload of the previous night was just _too much._ Nathan had never told Duke how embarrassed he often felt, pulses of vulnerability quaking through him when he dared think back to their closeness and their intimacy– but Duke, somehow, just knew anyway. Nathan wasn’t used to sex, and he certainly was _not_ used to being able to feel. Duke kept a safe, respectful distance on such mornings, usually cooked a gourmet breakfast and blabbered on about other things just to take Nathan’s mind off it. Sometimes Nathan just needed to leave, overwhelmed by Duke’s very presence, exhausted and timid after everything they had done. He was a grown ass man, and he hated feeling this way… but Duke never failed to make it all better. He knew when to step away.

Nathan lifted one hand in front of his face, touched his fingers gently against his cheek. He closed his eyes and revelled in the lack of sensation. Everyone viewed his Trouble as a curse- and yeah, it was, but Nathan had found a home in his own body. He was euphoric that Duke could touch him, but he sometimes needed to retreat back into the comfort of his own numbness. It was what he was used to.

“Nate?”

Nathan opened his eyes, smiled shyly at Duke– who, conversely, was standing in the doorway with breakfast on an actual _tray,_ a tiny vase of red flowers completing the hopelessly (and undeniably) _romantic_ picture. Nathan laughed, the sound bursting out of him like the ringing of bells, and wondered what the fuck he’d done to deserve this. This felt almost too good to be true, almost too good to last.

“Where did you get those? I don’t even _own_ a vase. Or a breakfast tray.”

“I improvised!” Duke explained cheerfully, gesturing, “Sit up, sit up.”

Nathan did, the blanket falling down his bare chest. He pulled it back up again to hide his naked body, and Duke didn’t comment. He knew. He just _knew_ it was one of those mornings, one of those days when Nathan needed time, space, and patience. Nathan would’ve kissed him out of sheer gratitude, but he couldn’t. Not today.

“Eggs, bacon, buttermilk pancakes, coffee, and freshly squeezed orange juice.” Duke listed the tray’s content proudly, setting it down on Nathan's lap and then waving at it with a flourish. “Just what a growing boy needs.”

Nathan laughed again. “And the flowers?”

“Do they need a reason? Everyone likes flowers!”

Nathan plucked one from the vase as Duke took a seat on the edge of the bed, brought it up to his face so that he could smell it. It was sweet yet tangy, sharp and almost citrus-like in its scent. Like a ripe, juicy pineapple.

“Scarlett Pineapple sage,” he murmured, “also known as Salvia Elegans.”

Duke held out his arms, beaming widely. “Amazing. Even _I_ didn’t know that.”

“To be fair,” Nathan slotted the flower back in place, “you don’t know anything about plants.”

“I know which ones are poisonous.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I do!”

“You once told me Brugmansia flowers could be brewed into a tea.”

“They can be!”

“Yeah, if you’ve got a _death wish.”_

Duke shrugged. “Well, I surrender. You are the all-knowing plant expert, Nathan.”

Nathan nodded. He cast his eyes down at the breakfast tray, toyed with his cutlery.

“…Thanks, Duke.”

There was a quiet pause, a beat of silence. Nathan glanced up again, and was left speechless by the softness of Duke’s smile, the adoration in his eyes.

“You’re welcome,” he said quietly, “Nate.”

Nathan looked down again, quicker this time, blushing furiously. Duke chuckled and stood- he didn’t lean over and kiss Nathan, not this morning, and Nathan couldn’t have expressed in words how _grateful_ he was for that.

“I’m gonna go wash up. Enjoy your breakfast, babe.”

Nathan’s blush grew hotter. “Don’t call me that.”

“Love you, _baby!”_ Duke called out over his shoulder, his voice a cheerful, teasing cadence.

Nathan put his head in his hands.

“…Love you too,” he muttered.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (((Disclaimer: do not, I repeat, do NOT brew Brugmansia flowers into a tea. They're seriously, _SERIOUSLY_ toxic. For some reason, when I was young, my mother owned three Brugmansia plants, despite them being potent, often fatal, hallucinogens??? idk. Welcome to Australia.)))   
>  ANYWAY. I'm really loving writing this, and I hope you guys are liking the journey as well~~ ♡｡ﾟ.♡ °・These chapters also go out to Kate for being so awesome and supportive!!! ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ


	22. homely

Nathan ate breakfast in bed, content to feed himself small pieces of food until his belly was full and he was getting sleepy again. Duke spent the morning poking through Nathan’s stuff, reading his books, tidying up in the kitchen, and occasionally stealing food from Nathan’s tray. He eventually settled at the desk Nathan had set up in the corner of his bedroom, flicking through Nathan’s copy of _Appetite_ by Philip Kazan.

“This,” Duke said, pointing dramatically at the contents of the page he was reading, “is a boring book.”

“Not for me.” Nathan replied quietly, cutting up a slice of pancake. “The plot is all about flavour and taste. I can relate.”

“Huh.” Duke absentmindedly flicked through the book, apparently done proceeding through the story in a chronological fashion. “Didn’t think of that.”

“You wouldn’t. You’ve been able to feel all your life.”

“Well,’ Duke closed the book and looked thoughtfully into the distance, “I dunno about that.”

“What d’you mean?”

“Let’s just say that there were… a _few_ times during my youth when I consumed enough illicit drugs to deprive me of _all_ sensation.”

Nathan shot him a hard look, torn between disapproval and worry at the state of Duke’s adolescence and childhood. They didn’t really talk about it, but he knew there were things Duke wasn’t telling him. He had a mouthful of pancake in lieu of replying, because he didn’t really know what to say. What questions to ask, what questions _not_ to ask.

“You like the pancakes?” Duke asked chirpily, apparently unaware of the reaction his casual statement had inspired.

Nathan chewed slowly. The pancakes were plump, soft, and a gorgeous honeyed-brown beneath the whipped cream Duke had slathered them with. Topped, of course, with maple syrup and a dotting of blueberries. Just how Nathan liked his pancakes.

“They’re perfect.”

Duke beamed. Just as he was drawing breath to say something in reply, Nathan’s phone beeped with a text message alert. Nathan picked it up, stopped chewing when he saw who had texted him. He swallowed, sighed, and placed the phone back on the bedside table.

“Uh oh,” Duke hedged, “that reaction isn’t good.”

“It’s Audrey.”

“Oh. So?”

“I’m not…” Nathan rubbed at his eyes. “I’m not ready to talk to her. Just yet.”

Duke sighed too, leaned forward in the desk chair. He rested his elbows on his knees, folded his hands together and stared imploringly over at Nathan from across the room.

“Nathan. Look at me.”

Nathan did. Grudgingly.

“It’ll be okay,” Duke insisted gently, his voice soft, “I promise. Audrey doesn’t care that we’re seeing each other. She doesn’t _care_ that you’re seeing a man.”

Nathan’s blue eyes were tight at the corners, a frown creasing his forehead. His lips were pressed together like he was trying to keep words at bay. But, when Duke smiled hopefully at him, he couldn’t help but smile back, mouth twitching into an unwilling smile.

“There,” Duke murmured gently, “that’s better.”

Nathan looked away, drank some of his coffee so that the mug hid his grin. “Shut up.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((90% of Nathan and Duke's relationship is Nathan telling Duke to shut up. 10/10 can confirm it is the cutest shit ever.)) Chapters will be quite short for the moment because I can't write for long periods, but the plot is gonna start heating up real soon, I promise~~~ thanks for all your patience!!! ♡♡♡


	23. laugh

Audrey was sitting back in her chair with a coffee when Nathan arrived. He was slumped over, head ducked low like he wanted to avoid her gaze, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket.

“You look like a kid on his way to detention.” She observed flatly.

He shrugged, set his stuff down on the desk. The comparison seemed disturbingly apt.

“We’ve got a school talk today,” she continued, putting her coffee down beside an unfinished report, “gotta go in and teach the kids how _not_ to end up arrested later in life. What d’you think?”

He gave a noncommittal hum, started to shuffle through the pile of paperwork on his desk. She would’ve laughed at his childish manner, but really, this was just making her sad. She didn’t want Nathan to feel like he couldn’t trust her. She'd been in his shoes before, and the only reason she'd emerged so unapologetically unashamed of her sexuality was because foster homes had toughened her up past the point of caring what people thought.

“Alright. That’s it.” She pointed to the corridor. “Look out there. Do you see the lady with red-brown hair? In the black suit?”

Nathan looked up, frowned. “…Yeah. Why?”

“Her name is Claire. Your dad brought her in to give therapy to some of our younger officers who’re still finding their feet.”

Nathan shrugged, pursed his lips like he was only just managing to look interested. “Yeah, she’s a psychiatrist, I’ve heard of her before. So?”

“ _So,_ don’t you think she’s cute?”

Nathan’s frown deepened. “Uh-”

“Because _I_ do. And while you’ve been busy with your date, I’ve been busy with _mine_.”

She let the words sink in, watching the dawning disbelief on Nathan’s face. When he didn’t reply for a while, she decided to have a little more fun.

“I mean, I just,” she shrugged, voice airy and light, “I’ve got a thing for brunettes, y’know? And Claire, she’s just so damn _cute._ She’s got one of those little button noses, and those full lips, not to mention the _softest_ skin you can even _imagine-”_

“Okay, I-” Nathan held up a hand, “I get it.”

“Oh god, no you don’t, she’s _perfect_ Nathan." Audrey tipped her head back and groaned. "This weekend we’re gonna make _cupcakes_. Did you know she was a _cheerleader?_ She still has the costume.”

“Audrey,” Nathan started to laugh, chuckles shaking through him. He hid his face behind both hands, bent over his desk.

“And she likes Buffy the Vampire Slayer, I mean, this one’s a keeper, Nathan. I can’t even _believe_ how-”

“Oh god, stop, please,” Nathan’s laugher became louder, muffled by his palms, “I get it, you’re gay-”

“Oh, I’m not just gay. I’m _really_ gay. Like, super, _super_ gay-”

“ _Stop,_ Audrey, oh my god. Oh my god.”

She grinned, took up her coffee again as Nathan sucked in big lungfuls of air between bouts of laughter. His cheeks were going red. She’d never seen him laugh like this, _ever._

 

***

 

When Nathan was finally able to breathe properly again, he straightened up, wiping the tears off his cheeks.

“Well,” Audrey said, feeling somewhat proud, “Nathan Wuornos knows how to laugh after all. Who’d have thought.”

He tried to look irritated, but couldn’t really pull it off. They sat grinning at each other for a few seconds, like goddamn schoolchildren, before Stan poked his head in the door, looking very confused.

“Everything okay in here? I heard some weird noises.”

“Yeah, Stan,” Nathan sighed, shaking his head, “everything’s fine.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Audrey is the bestest friend ever.


	24. fall

The school talk went pretty routinely, all things considered. Sometimes when they visited schools they had to console Troubled kids who had activated their abilities, but this time all of the grade-schoolers seemed normal. Relatively speaking.

There was _one_ odd girl, a blonde kid who sat through the talk with distant eyes and a bored expression. Nathan approached her after the talk was done, while Audrey was entertaining the rest of the children with a story about Bigfoot. He was _pretty sure_ it was fake. But, hey, this was Haven. He didn’t know what Audrey got up to in her spare time.

“Hey,” he said, sitting down next to the girl.

She blinked slowly, not looking up from the book he was reading.

“What you got there? A picture book?”

She hummed an affirmative answer.

“You like fairy tales?”

“Yes,” she replied matter-of-factly, turning a page, “they’re good.”

He pursed his lips, nodded. “Sure they are.”

She looked up at him, suddenly intense, her green eyes wide. He raised his eyebrows, confused by the change in her mannerism.

“Do you have somebody who loves you?”

“…Uh,” Nathan blinked, “Why…?”

“It’s important.”

“I, um. Yeah. Sure I do.”

She grinned. The expression was bright and joyous, not that he knew why. He smiled back, only just managing to keep the frown off his face.

With that, she stood, taking her book with her.

“I have to go now,” she announced, turning her back, “goodbye mister.”

With that, she walked off.

 

***

 

Duke had dinner ready when Nathan came home. Which was unexpected, because Nathan and he hadn’t even _planned_ to have dinner. Nathan just walked into the kitchen, jacket over his arm, and stopped short at the sight that greeted him.

“Nate!” Duke spun on the spot, frying pan held out in front of him. “How was your day?”

“How did you… How did you get _inside,_ Duke _…?”_

Duke shrugged, put the frying pan back on the stove. “I am a man of many talents.”

“Right. And what’s with the whole domestic wife look?”

“What, this?” Duke looked down at the frilly pink apron he was sporting. It was an especially interesting getup when combined with his boots and heavy blue jeans. “I thought you’d like it. I’ll make you pancakes later if you want. Naked.”

Nathan shook his head, laughed. He crossed the kitchen, pressed a kiss against Duke’s lips. Duke leaned into him, and Nathan reached an arm around his waist, pulling him close. Duke’s tongue dipped into his mouth smoothly, the feeling sending a liquid warmth shivering through his body. Nathan realised there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

“Mm,” Duke hummed, “I need to keep making the tacos.”

“Do you?” Nathan asked against his mouth.

“I do. I really do. It’ll be worth it, I promise. I make _great_ tacos.”

Nathan groaned, dipped his head down, dropped his chin onto Duke’s shoulder. Duke held him close, sighed contentedly.

“Seriously, Nathan. I have to make dinner.”

Nathan leaned heavily against him, arms hanging. Duke laughed, shifting his stance under Nathan’s weight.

“C’mon Nate, enough-”

He stepped away, and Nathan collapsed.

“Nathan!”

Duke’s arms shot out just in time, and he only just managed to catch Nathan before he hit the floor. He knelt, gathering Nathan up into his arms, heart hammering in his chest, panic bubbling up inside him like acid.

“Nathan? Nathan!”

Nathan’s head rolled back limply, his eyes closed, mouth hanging open.

“No, no, no-”

Duke lay him down, traumatised by the way Nathan hung from his hands, lifeless as a ragdoll. He ran out of the kitchen, grabbed his phone, sprinted back and crouched next to Nathan. He dialled with trembling fingers, had to try twice to get the number right.

“Yeah, I need an ambulance. Nathan Wuornos’ house, he's the son of- Yeah, you have his address. He’s unconscious. I can’t- Yes, he’s breathing. Yeah. Injuries? No, he-”

He paused. There was a dot of blood, small and inconspicuous, on the tip of Nathan’s finger.

“No, not really. A small cut on his finger. Nothing else. Yeah. No. Okay. Thanks.”

Duke hung up, threw the phone away, took Nathan’s face between his hands. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t _think._

“Nathan? Nathan, c’mon,” he whispered, “please? Wake up. Please wake up.”

Nathan didn’t.

 

 


	25. panic

Audrey was lounging on her couch when Duke called.

She was well used to having shocking, unpleasant conversations over the phone. She was a cop, after all; there was no crime that she hadn’t been faced with, hadn’t needed to deal with in some capacity. But she knew, despite her intimate familiarity with pain and loss, that there would always be _something_ that caught her off-guard. The FBI had taught her to be prepared, had given her the ability to adapt and respond, but that preparedness only went so far. Those were just skills. Assets.

Surprises always came along.

Audrey had just poured herself a glass of wine, had just taken out her phone to call Claire, when her phone screen lit up with an incoming call. The caller ID was displayed in bold, pixelated letters, and she grinned. Talks with Duke were always fun.

“Hey, Duke! What’s up?”

Her only answer was silence, filled with static. Audrey frowned.

“…Duke? You there?”

 _“Yeah, Audrey, I… I’m here.”_ Duke’s voice was thickened, made heavy by emotion. It almost sounded like he’d been crying. Audrey sat up straighter, eyes widening. She set down her wine glass, and the tap it made against her table sounded oddly final.

“What is it? Duke?”

 _“It’s, uh,”_ Duke sniffed, _“It’s Nathan.”_

“…Oh? If you’re coming to me for relationship advice, I might not be the best person to-”

_“No. No, it’s not that.”_

The heaviness of Duke’s voice was starting to itch, starting to sit wrong in her gut. Something had happened. Something bad.

“What is it, then?”

_“He’s… He’s in hospital.”_

Audrey went still. Felt shock pulse through her, cold in her veins. Like ice. Like poison. She took a breath, deep and slow, and reminded herself that she’d been trained for this. Whatever was happening, they would deal with it. She needed to get all the facts, get a grip on the situation.

 _“We were… We were just in the kitchen together. Everything was… was fine, and then he just- He just fell_. _He collapsed, and then he wouldn’t-”_ Duke’s voice trembled, and his next inhalation was rushed. Like he couldn’t get enough air into his lungs. _“He wouldn’t wake up. I called an ambulance for him. But by the time they arrived, he was still-”_

“Okay, Duke,” Audrey said slowly, “calm down.”

 _“Calm-”_ Duke laughed, an edge of hysteria quivering in his words, _“Calm down? Come on, Audrey, don’t tell me to calm down. He could've had a stroke, he could've been injured the whole time and not been able to feel it, he-”_

“Are you at the hospital?”

_“Yeah, I’m- I’m waiting for them to tell me what’s going on with him. I haven’t heard anything yet.”_

“Okay.” Audrey stood, her wine forgotten. “I’m coming now. Stay right where you are.”

_“I need to- I need to call Nathan’s dad, I- But he doesn’t know about us, Audrey, he doesn’t… And Nathan doesn’t want to tell him yet, he isn’t ready-”_

“I’ll take care of that.” Audrey said firmly. “We don’t know what’s happening with Nathan yet, okay? So don’t assume the worst. He’ll be alright, I'm sure.”

Duke sniffed again.

_“…Thanks, Audrey.”_

She nodded. “I’m going to hang up now, alright? See you soon.”

He didn’t reply. Audrey hung up, and dove for her keys.

She was out the door in less than a minute.

 

***

 

Audrey followed all the traffic lights, stuck to the speed limit with a deliberate, determined strictness. She was not going to slip up. She was not going to rush and have a damn car crash. That wouldn't help anybody.

She parked between the lines in the hospital parking lot, kept her pace slowed to a fast walk as she approached the hospital's waiting room entranceway. She'd flash her badge at the nurses if it really came down to it, but for now there was no point going to the emergency department and demanding answers. She had to let the hospital staff do their job, and consoling Duke was her first priority. It was the best she could do for now.

She found Duke folded into a blue-grey plastic chair, long legs bent uncomfortably in front of him. He had his head in his hands, elbows resting on his knees. Like he was on a boat and about to be seasick.

"Hey," she said, sitting beside him. He straightened up fast, shocked out of whatever internal monologue was playing on loop in his head. She smiled softly, reassuringly, and reached over to rest a hand on his shoulder. He sighed unsteadily, returning to his tormented pose.

"You took your time," he griped, words muffled by his palm.

"Yeah, well, you know how the traffic is in Haven," she replied lightly, not offended by his tone, "just crazy this time of year."

He sighed again, shaking his head. "Sorry."

"It's alright."

"No, I'm- I shouldn't take this out on you, I-"

"Duke," she interrupted calmly, "stop it."

She rubbed at his shoulder, palm skidding over his denim jacket. He took long, deep breaths, and she was proud of him for trying to keep it together. The intensity of his response to this situation had... surprised her. She hadn't realised how deeply Duke cared, how serious their relationship was.

"All we can do is wait," she told him gently, "you have to trust that the nurses will do everything they can for Nathan."

Duke nodded, face still hidden by his hands.

"Have you had dinner?"

He shook his head.

"Right," she patted him on the back and rose to her feet, "I'm gonna go get you some snacks from the cafeteria."

Without any further explanation, she walked off. She'd seen the moisture gathering at the edges of Duke's eyes, and knew he was starting to cry. The least she could do was step away for a moment, give him some space.

And, what the hell. She was starting to feel that maybe _she_ needed some space, too.

 

 


	26. crash

Audrey and Duke sat beside each other, munching on cheap cafeteria food, gazing into the distance. The flavour was bland and plastic, but at least their stomachs were full. Nurses came and went, various alarms going off and echoing throughout the building; every time a new round of beeping started, Duke stiffened, trying not to assume the worst.

Eventually, around midnight, a young nurse came to speak to them. She had a severe expression, hair pulled back tight, and Duke couldn’t imagine someone with a more foreboding face. He and Audrey stood, urgent and frantic, as she approached.

“You’re here to see Mr Wuornos, yes?”

“Yeah.” Audrey replied smoothly, and Duke was grateful for her composure. At least _one_ of them was keeping cool. “Can we see him?”

The nurse nodded. A perfunctory, austere gesture, not betrayed by one single emotion in her dark eyes. Duke couldn’t tell whether he was just being paranoid, or whether she _actually_ looked like she was trying to hide something.

“Right this way.”

 

***

 

They followed her through the hospital, and it was only when they reached the Critical Care ward that Duke’s heart started to clench in his chest, a suffocating feeling tightening his windpipe. He couldn’t breathe properly. And maybe Audrey knew, maybe she could see how much he was hurting, because she took his hand, squeezed it gently.

They entered a room.

Duke blinked twice, tried to figure out what he was looking at. The lights were too bright, the overwhelming presence of _white_ blinding him.

Nathan was lying on a bed, crisp sheets blanketing him, tucked under his arms. Wires crisscrossed his chest, trailing out from the neck of his hospital gown, leading out to all manner of machines. A heart monitor beeped steadily, and the oxygen mask over Nathan’s face made quiet, gentle whirring noises.

Duke couldn’t look away from Nathan’s closed eyes.

There was a sound, distant and mumbling, scratching at his awareness. He swayed on his feet, unsteady, and tried to focus. The noise, he eventually realised, was a voice.

“…cannot find a source of his unconsciousness,” the nurse was saying, “We’ve done numerous tests, and his brain, by all accounts, appears to be functioning perfectly.”

“Is there anything in his blood?" Audrey asked. "Any kind of poison or foreign substance?”

“No,” the nurse responded, handing Audrey a clipboard, “as I said, we’ve performed many tests. All have come back as expected of a normal, healthy young man. Though he does have more scar tissue than most, because of his Trouble.”

“So what-” Duke began, his voice coming from somewhere very far away, “What’s wrong with him?”

The nurse paused. Only for a moment, but it was enough to make Duke snap.

“Are you- Are you serious? We’ve been waiting for _hours,_ and you’re telling me you have _no idea_ what’s wrong with him?” He felt himself gesturing, his voice rising, too loud for the hospital’s clinical halls. “What’s the matter with you!”

“Duke-” Audrey said quietly.

“No! This is ridiculous! You can’t just-”

“Sir, you need to stay calm.” The nurse held up a hand, her manner steady and cold. She was, very clearly, a seasoned medical professional. Duke wasn’t her first aggressive case, and certainly would not be her last. On some level, Duke knew he should be backing off, but he couldn’t. He just _couldn’t._

“Duke-”

“No, Audrey. No, this is- This is unbelievable. We need to find out what’s wrong with him-”

“And we will.” The nurse promised, her voice sharpening. “I take it that you care deeply about Mr Wuornos, sir, and I assume you wish to stay by his side in this trying time. _If_ you do not calm down, I will be forced to call security and have you removed from the building. I take it you do not want that.”

Duke clenched his fists, forced himself to swallow down the curses he wanted to spit in her face. The world felt blurry, indistinct and unsteady, and he couldn’t _handle_ this.

He heard Audrey saying something. Her voice was soft, and he clung to the cadence of her tone, the quietness that sat somewhere between loving reassurance and firm direction. The nurse shot them a tired, disbelieving look, but whatever Audrey was saying must have worked, because she left the room.

Duke found himself turning around, looking down at Nathan. Nothing was _working_ in his head. He felt like he was running on fumes, exhausted and confused, not computing the slackness of Nathan’s sleeping face.

“We have to…” he began listlessly, “We have to… wake him up, Audrey.”

She replied. He didn’t know what she said.

Next thing he knew, he was sitting in a chair. Audrey left to go get more food, and he was alone. The suddenness of it all came crashing, and a surge of panic had him reeling.

"...Nathan...?"

The oxygen mask whirred. The machines beeped.

Nathan didn't even twitch.

 

 


	27. persist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I'm getting a bit better lately (with regards to, y'know, everything that's been going on in my life lately lmao), so I thought I'd write another chapter for y'all~ hope you enjoy! updates will still be sporadic, but hey, one chapter at a time (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧ this isn't beta read, as per usual, so pls forgive any mistakes... also, a warning for hospital angst in this chapter. minor, but worth mentioning.

Garland jerked awake, the ringing of his phone exploding throughout the silence of his house and sending him into a fucking _fit._ He reached over and hit at his lamp until it turned on, heart beating a furious rhythm against the underside of his ribcage. God fucking _damnit,_ he was an _old man,_ he didn’t need people calling him at one o’clock in the morning. Speaking of which- who the _fuck_ was ringing him?

He yanked up his phone and stabbed at the buttons, already pissed off.

“What?” He barked, not bothering to hide his anger. He needed a goddamn cigarette.

_“Hey, sorry to call you so late-”_

“Who the hell’s this?”

_“Audrey, sir, Audrey Parker-”_

“You better have a damn good reason for callin’ me, Parker, or I swear I’ll fire you the next chance I get.” Garland took up his lighter and pack of cigarettes from the bedside table, still slightly shaky as the sensation of being suddenly woken (which was not unlike a _heart attack)_ faded from his system. He put a cigarette between his lips, fumbled with the lighter. “What’s the damn emergency?”

_“Sir, it’s… It’s Nathan.”_

Garland’s hands stilled. The world seemed to shrink, seemed to implode, every parent’s worst nightmare playing behind his eyes in a matter of seconds. He took the cigarette out of his mouth slowly.

“You get to explainin’ Audrey,” he demanded quietly, “right goddamn now.”

_“He collapsed. So far, he… hasn’t regained consciousness.”_

Garland surged up off his bed, threw the lighter vaguely in the direction of his bedside table, not caring when he heard it _clack_ against the wall and fall to the floor. He grabbed some clothes from the pile on his chair, glad he’d long ago forgone the etiquette of folding his uniform after coming home from work. When you lived alone, shit like that tended not to matter.

“So, what happened? Did he,” Garland tried to keep his voice steady, holding his phone between his shoulder and his cheek as he yanked on his jeans, “Did he get hit on the head or somethin’?”

_“The doctors have no idea what happened. His brain seems undamaged, and so does his body. He just… fell.”_

“Well, you- Were you with him? When it happened?”

_“No, sir. Duke… Duke was, though. He’s the one that called the ambulance.”_

Garland heard the hesitation in her words, and knew what it meant, knew what she was trying to say. He put down the phone momentarily to pull his t-shirt over his head, picking it up again as he tugged on his shoes.

_“About that, Chief, there’s something that you should probably-”_

“I know they’re together, Parker, for god’s sake- I’m not an _idiot._ You think I care about that now? All I care about is that my boy’s in hospital! Christ, I thought you were smart!”

Audrey paused, but only for a moment. She’d heard his voice quake, and she knew better than to take a harsh tone personally. He liked that about her. She had a pretty face, but beneath all her pleasantries she was hard as nails. And  _clever,_ too.

 _“Fair enough, sir,”_ she replied steadily, enough softness in her words to make him feel both embarrassed and comforted. He focussed on trying to fit his feet in his boots. The laces were still done up, so the job was a lot harder than it would’ve been otherwise.

“Just- Just text me his room number, okay?”

_“Sure will. See you soon.”_

She hung up. He finally got his damn shoes on, and took off in a panicked run, car keys already clasped in his fist.

 

***

 

When he eventually got to Nathan’s room, navigating the halls of the hospital in a hasty sprint, his breaths were sharp and heavy in his lungs, the insides of his throat tightening like a vice. Jesus, he was unfit. He really needed to quit smoking.

Audrey was standing out in the doorway like some kind of spectre, the fluorescent lights harsh against her pale skin. Garland knew he put on a good show (the whole _rampaging bastard_ act and all that), but there was a stillness about her that was too genuine to just be grandstanding. He sometimes wondered what she’d been through, but hell, wondering didn’t do any good. He knew she’d been brought up in orphanages and foster homes; that was probably all the background information he needed.

Wordlessly, she handed him a coffee. She knew he wouldn’t be sleeping tonight, and she also knew that he took his coffee with sugar and cream when he was feeling distressed, even if he wouldn’t admit it aloud. She just _knew_ _,_ and somehow that endeared her to Garland in ways most of his detectives couldn’t hope to ever accomplish.

“…Thanks, Parker,” he said gruffly.

She nodded, stepped aside to let him into the room.

Duke was sitting with his back to the doorway, his tall frame squashed down into a tiny chair, back hunched and shoulders drooping. His head was bowed, and he was gripping one of Nathan’s hands tight, long fingers curled protectively around Nathan’s knuckles. Garland did a double-take, but quickly recovered. His gaze moved past Duke.

Suddenly, Garland couldn't move. It had been a long time since he'd been stunned into shock like this (he  _was_ a seasoned policeman, after all), but this bone-deep terror was one he knew intimately.

He froze.

His son was lying still and unresponsive, hooked up to leads and plastic and machines, the quiet vulnerability of his closed eyes reminding Garland- with horrific vividness- of his wife’s death. The way she’d been towards the end. A figure in a hospital bed, waves of brunette hair soft against her forehead, swathed in white. A sick mockery of death rituals, an agonising parody of the dignified end she’d wanted.

Nathan looked so much like her.

Garland must have made some kind of noise, must have let emotion boil over past his lips and out into the world, because Duke started and turned sharply around. His eyes widened, and he immediately let go of Nathan’s hand. Garland felt a pang of regret, cutting quickly through his mourning. He needed to focus on what was real, what was happening _right now._

“Chief,” Duke said, starting to rise up out of his seat, brushing strands of black hair behind his ear, fidgeting with his sleeves, “Sorry, I was just-”

“Sit down, son.”

The affectionate term _son_ fell from Garland’s lips with an ease he hadn’t expected, especially in this context. He picked up Nathan’s chart for something to do, unhooking it from its post at the end of the bed. The handwriting on the paper was messy and practically unreadable, not that he cared. He just wanted something to look at, a way to occupy himself that didn’t involve looking directly at Nathan.

Duke twitched and shifted in his seat, quite obviously uncomfortable with the silence. Garland pretended not to notice.

“I, uh,” Duke cleared his throat, looking down at his lap, “I did everything I could.”

Duke blurted out the words, trying to sound nonchalant, trying to seem like he was just Nathan’s _friend._ But his hands were clenched against his knees, skin pulling tight across his knuckles, and this time he didn’t move to brush aside his hair when it fell in his face. He looked tired, unsteady, and broken. Garland wondered how long he’d been sitting here. How many hours he’d been waiting for Nathan to wake up.

“I believe you.” Garland offered gently. “And I know you two are together.”

Duke blinked a few times before raising his head, frowning deeply. His lips parted, a question obviously hovering on his tongue, but Garland raised a hand, hanging Nathan’s chart back in place.

“Before you ask, I’ve known for a while. And yeah, I’m an old-fashioned guy, so I can see why Nathan was nervous about tellin’ me, but…” Garland lowered his hand, crossing his arms. Unable to look at Duke while he was saying this, he fixed his gaze over at a blank section of wall. “…I know you care about him. I know you’re a good kid. And I also know what you’ve been through, what you had to deal with in your childhood, so… I know you’re not cruel. I know you wouldn’t hurt him, not intentionally.”

Duke flinched. Garland knew why. (He remembered  _exactly_ what kinds of torture Mr and Mrs Crocker had put their youngest son through.)

“And maybe we,” Garland sucked in a sharp breath, nodded to himself, “When he wakes up, maybe we could talk about it. Properly. All three of us.”

Duke didn’t respond for a while. His disbelief coloured the air, thick and confused. But eventually he nodded, seeming to relax where he sat. Slumping over with relief.

“Yeah, I’d… I’d like that, Chief.”

 _Call me dad,_ Garland wanted to joke, but shit, he wasn’t nearly relaxed enough for that yet. They’d get there.

“He _will_ wake up, Duke,” he said instead, “I promise. We’ll figure this out.”

He looked down now, inching his eyes away from the wall, meeting Duke’s exhausted gaze. Duke smiled, but the expression wasn’t convincing.

“Okay,” he whispered.

Garland nodded back at him, and didn’t know what else to say.

“I’m gonna,” he gestured towards the doorway, “I’m gonna go find the doctor. See what they can tell us.”

He didn’t wait for Duke to respond, just hightailed it out of the room as quick as he could. He was brimming with conflicting emotions; worry for Nathan, nervousness about being honest with Duke, and pride about finally having the balls to _be_ honest with Duke. He didn’t know which to give the most credence to. All he knew was that he had to find a medical professional and get them to tell him what the _fuck_ was wrong with his son.

As soon as he burst out of the doorway, Audrey greeted him with a knowing smile and a subtle, barely-perceptible wink. She’d obviously overhead every single damn word, the sneaky little cop that she was. He was almost proud.

“Go home, Parker,” he told her, “we’ve got this handled.”

She shrugged. “Whatever you say, Chief.”

 

 


	28. pairs

Duke liked sleep.

Sleep meant peace, and peace meant he could _rest._ His life, full of disaster and banditry as it was, never seemed to slow down. The moments that he shared with Nathan were his saving grace, his port in an endless storm; the warm embrace of Nathan’s skin was his religion. He needed calm. He needed closeness and contentment, needed to wake up beside Nathan and feel lips press against the back of his neck. Nightmares weren’t uncommon for him (unsurprisingly, given everything he’d been through), but Nathan’s presence helped. He liked warmth. He liked safety.

Which was why, when he woke up at Nathan’s bedside, he felt chilled to his core. He was sore and stiff, slumped forward onto the edge of Nathan’s hospital bed, his folded arms forming a pitiful excuse for a pillow beneath his head. Pain, throbbing and uncomfortable, crept up his back and between his shoulder blades, shooting up his neck when he straightened up suddenly. Groaning, he closed his eyes tight, trying to remember what day it was, trying to remember what was going on. For a second, he forgot what had happened the night before. He wondered, _why am I sitting up? Why didn’t I go to bed?_

Thinking that he was in his living room, he opened his eyes, freezing still into shocked silence when he was greeted with an utterly unfamiliar sight. White. Grey. Sterile, cold. Plastic tubes and starched sheets.

_Nathan._

Duke remembered everything. He sagged in his seat, miserable and angry, closing his eyes again so that he wouldn’t have to see what lay before him. _Who_ lay before him.

“Screw you,” Duke whispered, words hissing out from between his teeth. Who he was talking to, he didn’t know, but he figured _someone_ was responsible for this. He turned his face up towards the ceiling, jaw clenched tight.

“I swear,” he promised, “if you don’t fix whatever you did to him, I’ll kill you myself.”

He sat and glared upwards. He didn’t get any answers, but he figured that tended to happen when you threatened the big man in the sky. He didn’t know what the fuck he was doing, sitting here talking to himself like this. Praying had never worked for him before. It had done fuck-all when he was a homeless thirteen year-old kid, and it would do _fuck-all_ now that he was sitting at the hospital bedside of somebody he loved.

“Yeah,” he continued, voice raw now, smiling ruefully, “nothing ever really changes, does it?”

No reply. He stared up into the glow of fluorescent lights, head aching from lack of sleep, feeling tears prickle at the corners of his eyes. Maybe it was just masochism.

“Morning, Duke.”

For a second there, Duke legitimately thought God had spoken. But then somebody was holding a coffee in front of his face, and he thought, _nah, the messiah wouldn’t offer me caffeine._ Fuck. He really, _really_ needed a decent sleep.

He took the coffee from Audrey, sighing, wondering how the hell he’d missed the quiet clack of her heeled shoes as she entered the room. She took a seat beside him, looking cautiously concerned. He hated that expression.

“What time is it?” He asked, clearing his throat before taking a sip.

“Eleven.” Audrey handed him a sandwich as well, kept one for herself.

“In the _morning?”_

“Yeah. You were pretty out of it.”

Duke cast a worried glance at Nathan, tried not to think about how _still_ he was. The rise and fall of his chest was in time with the oxygen mask, but aside from that… he may as well have been a corpse.

 _Stop it._ Duke thought, _stop it, stop it, stop it, don’t think like that, he’ll be_ fine-

“Where's the Chief?” He asked, words sharper than he intended as he interrupted his own internal monologue. He wanted to make a joke, wanted to laugh off the heaviness, but couldn't seem to manage it.

“At the office, screening new cases.” Audrey replied, unwrapping her sandwich. “Seeing if anybody else is… y’know.”

“You think this is a Trouble?”

Audrey shrugged, sunk her teeth into white bread. He envied her relaxed mood, the way she could compartmentalise almost anything, deal with any situation.

“Maybe,” she said, swallowing, “It’d be good if it was.”

Duke grinned. That rueful look again, his eyes softened by sadness. Wondering what the fuck they’d done to deserve this. They’d barely just gotten together, only just started to sort out their teenage angst. Did fate simply want to fuck them over? He wondered if this was all about him and his bullshit bad luck. He _always_ lost people he cared about. Love had never been a realistic option before, and fuck, he almost wanted to laugh at the belief that he could’ve had something _good._

“Yeah,” he murmured, “it would be.”

Audrey stopped chewing, hearing the seriousness of his tone. She could read him like a book.

“Duke…” She began gently.

Whatever consolations she was about to offer were interrupted by an approaching set of footsteps, entering the room with a suddenness that Duke was grateful for. He didn’t need platitudes and reassurances. He needed his boyfriend to _wake up._

He turned around, found himself looking at a brunette woman. She was wearing a tailored blue suit, tight around her small waist, and sleek black high heels– which was an odd look, considering the fact that she was holding a tray of pretty pink cupcakes.

“Oh- hi! You must be Duke.” She grinned, the fullness of her glossy lips not lost on him. He tiredly wondered why a model had chosen to detour into Nathan’s hospital room.

“Yeah,” Duke responded exhaustedly, rubbing at his eyes, “I am. And you are?”

“Claire Callahan, psychiatrist.” She responded smoothly, holding the tray out to him. “Cupcake?”

“…Thanks.” He responded slowly, putting down his sandwich and taking one of the offered cupcakes. “Sorry, uh… Why are you here, and… how do you know my name?”

Audrey held up a hand, gestured vaguely in Claire’s direction. “We’re…”

Her voice trailed off. Claire pouted, somehow managing to make the expression appear thoughtful and considering.

“…dating?” She finished hopefully.

“Yeah.” Audrey agreed, sounding more tentative than she did certain.

“Kinda.” Claire clarified, putting the lid back on the cupcakes. Duke laughed despite himself, amazed at the weird casualness with which the two women were discussing their relationship.

“’Kinda’?” He inquired.

“Well,” Claire began lightly, “neither of us are really romantically committed right now, so-”

“-we haven’t put a label on it.” Audrey finished, nodding.

Duke sat back in his chair, amused. He hadn’t thought Audrey would be the type to have a _no strings attached_ kind of relationship, especially with a woman who was obviously in her mid-twenties. (Then again, he hadn’t thought Audrey was _gay_ either, so really, he didn’t know anything.)

“Seems like ‘friends with benefits’ might be a good start,” he suggested.

Audrey and Claire squinted at each other with a weird amount of intensity. It was almost like they were trying to communicate telepathically.

“Maybe.” Claire declared with a perfunctory nod.

“We’ll see.” Audrey agreed.

Duke chuckled quietly, and bit into his cupcake. Claire’s expression immediately lit up, and her face broke into a grin. He liked her already. It was nice to have a distraction from Nathan’s situation.

“Do you like the cupcake?” She asked excitedly.

Duke nodded. “Mm. It’s good.”

“To be fair, anything’s going to taste good given the state you’re in now,” Audrey said, somehow managing to make the statement sound caring as opposed to inconsiderate.

“Hey, I worked hard on that batch,” Claire stated defensively.

Audrey laughed. “You followed the instructions on the box.”

“That doesn’t mean I didn’t work hard!”

“Neither of us can cook,” Audrey told Duke, cupping a hand around her mouth as if to hide her words from Claire, “really, on the basis of that alone, we probably shouldn’t be in a relationship.”

He smiled, amused when Claire retorted with an affronted, “Hey, I totally _can_ cook!”

The two women continued to bicker, an easy back-and-forth rhythm between them. Duke listened as if they were a radio playing in the background, muffled and distant. Comforting. At least he wasn’t just left with the silence. At least he didn’t have nothing to distract him but the _beep beep beep_ that proved Nathan’s heart was still beating.

He reached down, folded his fingers around Nathan’s hand, felt the curved angles of Nathan’s knuckles against his palm.

Claire and Audrey continued to talk.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apparently my habit of updating fics when i have a billion other things to do/an endless list of chronic health concerns is undiminished lmao. stay tuned for more, i guess.


	29. alone

Audrey made Duke go home, told him to go have a rest. He said he didn't need to, that he was fine, but she made him anyway.

She was tenacious like that.

He stood in his shower, water cascading down his weary body, the heat drugging him into an exhausted dizziness. He closed his eyes, practically falling asleep on his feet, and could've sworn he felt Nathan's arms reaching around him, Nathan's wet body pressing up against his back.

But there was nothing.

 

 


	30. comfort

Audrey woke to the sound of music.

She rolled over in bed, blinking sluggishly at the unfamiliar ceiling, brain not yet functioning at full cognitive power. She knew without needing to get up that Claire would be dancing in the kitchen, already dressed to the nines in one of her suits, hurriedly pushing food around in a pan. And, as per the young woman’s morning ritual, she was playing music.

Loudly.

The band wasn’t one that Audrey recognised, but that was hardly shocking. Her tastes in almost everything were polar opposite to Claire’s.

She lay still and listened to the electronic, wafting tunes, wondering why on earth digitised songs were so popular. Her singlet was askew, hanging off one shoulder, blonde hair knotted and plastered over her forehead from sleep, and she felt… _old._

It hadn’t really set in until she'd gone home with Claire for the first time. It was only then that the differences between them, which were many in number, had really started to stand out. Claire, for all her maturity and certified psychiatric skills, was only twenty-four years old; she had pizza delivery menus stuck to her fridge, an exciting wardrobe full of short skirts and high heels, and a constant stock of cheap liquor filling up her cupboards. Her place was always in some kind of disarray, though the sheepish urgency with which she tried to tidy up always made Audrey laugh. She was brash and bold about what she wanted, wearing lacy lingerie underneath ratty cartoon pyjamas, not yet at the age where she felt she needed to compensate for anything. She still talked about her days in college like they were yesterday– which, comparatively, they were.

Audrey knew she only had ten years on Claire (well, _twelve,_ if she was being honest), but it still lingered at the back of her head, niggling at her confidence whenever they came together as lovers. But she’d never been one to overthink relationships, so she rolled with it. And, what the hell, she was glad that she had someone to distract her. She was glad that, when Garland ordered her to go home from the hospital, she had somebody to go home _with._

Yawning, Audrey stretched, arms aching as she reached them over her head. Today, she needed to retrace Nathan’s steps, go back to the school again and find out if something had happened there. Or maybe even his favourite coffee shop, which he had surely gone to at some point to get his daily fix. Shit, she would go _all over town_ if it meant saving her friend.

Just as Audrey was about to lumber up out of bed, Claire appeared, accompanied by the sharp sounds of her heels. She handed a plate to Audrey, offering three rashers of bacon and some buttered toast.

“Sorry,” she said, waving a hand exhaustedly as if cooking was some kind of universal terror, “I forgot to go shopping for breakfast food, and now I’m running late.”

Audrey nodded calmly, reaching for the coffee that followed next. She had a sip, ignoring the bitterness of instant caffeine (it was the only coffee on offer in Claire’s apartment), silence falling between them. Claire stood there, makeup flawless and lips glossed, looking intently at Audrey from beneath thick eyelashes.

“I had fun,” she said, in a way that both explained and negated their entire night.

Audrey smiled in response, not insulted by Claire’s awkwardness. She was well aware that Claire, despite her passion and unrestrained sexual appetite, had less than _half_ an idea about how to date someone. She had begun to separate Claire into two people in her mind; there was the Claire that moaned and bucked beneath Audrey at night, and then there was the _daytime_ Claire; the girl that dissected and analysed every figment of human emotion that passed by her intelligent eyes.

“Me too,” Audrey replied gently, setting her mug of coffee down on the bedside table. Claire grinned in response, apparently relieved. She took a seat on the edge of the bed, hands resting diplomatically her knees. As if Audrey was one of her patients.

“Any ideas about what to do next? With Nathan?”

Audrey shrugged, laying the rashers of bacon out onto the toast, licking salt and fat off her fingers. She broke the toast in half, turned the meal into a sandwich.

“Same as any other case. Follow the logical steps, and we’ll figure out what happened.”

“Except this isn’t just like any other case.” Claire observed flatly. “This is personal.”

Audrey shot her a dry look as she bit into the makeshift sandwich.

“I don’t need therapy from you,” she muttered through a mouthful of bacon and toast, “especially given we had sex, like, _right here_ in this very bed _.”_

Claire’s eyes widened. “I’m just chatting!”

Audrey swallowed and groaned tiredly, rubbing at her eyes. Brushing a clump of hair behind her ear, she sighed, deciding to be patient. Claire had a certain… _directness_ about her, but she meant well. And this, despite appearances, _was_ legitimately how Claire made casual conversation. It was just really hard to tell the difference.

“Okay, sure. Can we not talk about Nathan, then?”

Claire nodded. “Well... what do you want to talk about?”

Audrey gestured cluelessly, had another bite of her breakfast, chewing in stubborn silence. Claire squinted in annoyance when a conversational prompt was not offered.

“Okay, well,” she flipped her hair over her shoulder, stood abruptly, “I have to go now. A client of mine is concerned about his child. He thinks she may have developed a Trouble early into life. I mean, I’m not a _child_ psychiatrist, but I’ll do my best. Haven only has so many resources.”

The only reply Claire got was a mulish nod, Audrey’s face heavy with a brooding misery. Claire hovered for a moment, before turning back towards the bed and crossing her arms.

“You’re stressed. About Nathan. You can talk to me, you know. I’m great at listening. I give awesome advice.”

Audrey put down her breakfast, hid her face behind her hands. She huffed out a long, exhausted sigh, shaking her head.

“I don’t want to talk about him.” She whispered, voice small, shaking with frustration. “I also don’t want to talk about _Duke,_ who’s probably already gone back to the hospital, and is sitting up in that damn room, worrying himself into an early grave. I don’t want to talk about how I let my partner get _hurt-”_

The bed dipped under Claire’s weight again. A set of slender, soft fingers settled around Audrey’s wrists, the touch of Claire’s hands feather-light and more tender than she could ever be with words. Audrey bit down on her lip to hold back the tide of emotion that threatened to overtake her. She’d never been very good at receiving affection. That came with the territory when you’d been raised in foster homes and orphanages, relying on your own competency just to survive.

Claire kissed her forehead, lingered for a moment.

“I’ll leave my spare set of keys on the bench,” she murmured, lips moving against Audrey’s skin, “you can lock up when you leave.”

Audrey smiled, chin wobbling with sobs she wouldn’t allow to form. Unable to thank Claire aloud, she moved one hand, pressed her palm against the curve of Claire’s cheek. Held her, just like that. Close. Intimate.

Without speaking, Claire rose up off the bed. She left silently, hair bouncing on her shoulders, and Audrey peeked up just to watch her leave.

The front door closed, softer than usual.

The apartment was quiet.

“Maybe I don’t give you enough credit,” Audrey admitted aloud, words weaving themselves through the air, settling comfortably in the privacy of Claire’s bedroom. It was in that moment she realised that, for the first time, she felt safe in another person's home.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Giving female characters actual complexity??? Hell yeah. Writing non-fetishised lesbians??? Why the heck wouldn't I. Acknowledging that age gaps can be complex without necessarily being bad??? You're damn right. Creating an aromantic character but retaining their ability to be kind, caring, and considerate?????? Of-fucking- _course_. Addressing the past trauma of a character who has been confronted with canon violence at a young age???? You bet your ass I am.  
>   
> 
> But, most importantly: CHARACTERS MAKING EACH OTHER BREAKFAST IN BED, AS AN ETERNAL AND UNDYING TROPE?????? SHIT YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> *ahem* Yeah, I dunno, I'm just really loving the dynamic between Audrey and Claire, and I REALLY adore writing female characters. I hope you guys are liking this too!!!! Once again, this isn't proofread, I am updating despite the Many Many Reasons I shouldn't even be writing, fic quality may be somewhat compromised, etc, etc......


	31. solution

Audrey pulled off her singlet as she entered the bathroom.

There was something about Claire’s apartment that spoke of brighter and greener days, of a life within Haven that was utterly separate from the turmoil outside. The young women had built herself a sanctuary, and the homely apartment wrapped itself around Audrey like a hug, welcoming her in a way other spaces never had. She felt like she was curled in bed, surrounded by warmth in the midst of a winter night. If she moved wrong, if she got up too fast, surely the comfort would fade– but for now she could linger here, snug and safe.

Midmorning light coloured everything, from the imperfect tiles to the spotted mirror. A faint impression of perfume lingered in the air, hovering gently; the coolness of fresh mint and lavender, an oddly specific fragrance that Audrey had learned to associate directly with the shapely curve of Claire’s mouth.

Audrey watched her reflection for a few seconds. Looking for answers, maybe, or simply looking for the sake of looking. She was softer, now, than she’d been when she was Claire’s age. Hard muscle had turned to gently sloping flesh, her once-shapely arms now tapering down from plump shoulders into slender wrists. She brushed threads of blonde hair out of her face, smiled when she remembered seeing affection in Claire’s blue eyes. Affection that came without devotion. Affection that was, in the simplest terms, purely physical.

And Audrey was shocked by how good that felt.

It was nice to be wanted.

Audrey abandoned her singlet, underwear, and socks in a soft pile, reached into the shower to twist the taps. Remembering the last time she’d taken a shower here, she stood outside, waited for the water to heat up. She resisted the urge to cross her arms over her chest, resisted the childhood urge to hide in an unfamiliar environment– and the pipes above her, like they knew she needed the comedy, gave a mighty groan as the hot water service came to life. She grinned, looking up at the ceiling and fondly considering the cracks that spiderwebbed along the cream paint. This place wasn’t the prettiest, or the most elegant, but felt  _comfortable_ _._

When steam started to billow in impressive clouds, Audrey stepped into the shower, sighed with relief (what Claire’s apartment lacked in style, it sure made up for in water pressure). She lingered for a while.

When she was done basking, she blinked her eyes open under the stream of water, considered the extensive number of shampoos and conditioners crowding the shelves. After some deliberation, she picked up a body wash. The cap made a satisfying _snap_ when she cracked it open, and she breathed it in. Strawberries and sweet cream, with cursive letters printed across the side of the transparent bottle. Audrey poured some into her palm, cupped the pink dollop for a second, marvelling Claire’s youth. Marvelling the optimism she presented to the world, gift-wrapped with scented ribbon.

Claire had hidden depths, most certainly, and knew how to hide them better than most. But there was a determined honesty about her, some kind of a resolve. An unspoken promise to herself that, no matter what, the weight of Haven would not wear her down. Audrey understood that. She’d done the same, when confronted with FBI cases that too closely mirrored her childhood, or the childhoods of girls she’d met in the orphanages. She’d managed it with caffeine, bourbon, gun ranges, and boxing bags. Claire managed it with cheerful buoyancy and unashamed indulgence.

 _Guess I understand you more than I thought I would,_ Audrey mused.

 

***

 

Audrey wandered into Claire’s bedroom when she was done, a towel wrapped tightly around her. She held it in place as she picked up her phone, frowning when she saw on the screen.

“…Ten missed calls…?”

Confused, she dialled Claire, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. She managed to keep her anxiety at arm’s length for only a few seconds. Claire picked up on the first ring. That was _not_ a good sign.

“Claire? What’s going on?”

 _“Audrey,”_ Claire said, voice hushed, _“Audrey, you need to get here. Right now.”_

“What do you mean? What’s happening? Where are you?”

_“I’m with my client. I mentioned him to you- he’s worried his daughter has activated her Trouble. And she has. Definitely. It’s not just Nathan, there’s-”_

“Wait, wait,” Audrey held a hand up placatingly, as if Claire was standing in front of her, “what? This girl caused Nathan to fall into this… coma thing? How?”

_“Her father is Joey Klein.”_

Audrey blinked hard, her frown deepening. “The man who brings to life everything that he reads?”

_“Yes. His daughter, she’s- she’s been reading fairy tales, Audrey. Sleeping Beauty, for one. And there’s definitely someone else in the hospital whose stepmother gave her a poisoned apple. Not that she knew that at the time, of course-”_

“This child, can she,” Audrey dropped her towel, reached for her folded clothes where they sat by the bed, “can she fix this? Can she undo this?”

_“I don’t think we can turn it off. She’s too young. She barely has a grasp of what she’s done. Maybe with time or therapy we could make her more aware, but, for now…”_

Audrey froze where she stood, bent over to pull on her jeans. Horror filled her gut, heavy as a stone. But, before she could jump to conclusions, Claire spoke up again.

_“Joe seems to think that we can fix her Troubles by obeying the rules of the fairy tales. So, in Nathan’s case, we can fix him using-”_

“- true love’s kiss,” Audrey finished, nodding in agreement, her movements hastening as she continued to dress, “good, good. I’m coming right now.”

_“Okay, great, see you soon.”_

“…Yeah, see you soon. And... thank you."

There was a pause.

 _“You’re welcome, Audrey,”_ Claire replied, her voice soft. Audrey felt something hum in her stomach, a warm buzz that mixed with excitement and had her grinning even wider.

Her partner was going to be _okay_.

 

 


	32. relief

Duke stared morosely at Nathan’s sleeping face.

“If I promise to make you naked pancakes, will you wake up?” He wondered aloud.

He laughed at his own joke. Nathan didn’t, and Duke sighed heavily.

He was just about to get up and leave, maybe go hang out at the cafeteria and entertain the workers there, when his phone beeped. He checked it, and raised an eyebrow at the words that greeted him.

 _KISS HIM,_ Audrey’s text read.

Just as he was about to reply with a confused emoji (and maybe a few question marks), she sent another one.

_it’s a fairy tale trouble. trust me._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY ENDING APPROACHING, YO!!!! once again, no proofreading has been done, etc etc


	33. process

Duke jumped up out of his chair, dialling Audrey as fast as his unsteady fingers would allow. He was deafened by muffled, thick beats of his heart, coming too fast and too erratic. His breaths were hollow, trapped behind his ribs, hissing like steam engines. He began to pace, striding back and forth within the confines of Nathan’s tiny little hospital room, feeling claustrophobic, panicked, worried, and unable to keep his thoughts from jumbling like chaotic screams-

 _“Duke?”_ Audrey greeted him warmly, apparently not on the same page he was. _“Have you done it? Is he awake?”_

“I need-” Duke tried to breathe, tried to calm himself down enough that he could speak coherently, “I need you to- to tell me what’s _going on,_ Audrey. I’m-”

 _“It’s okay, Duke. It’s okay.”_ Audrey’s voice slowed, reassuring and soothing now. _“The cause of this Trouble is a child. She’s bringing to life the fairy tales that she reads.”_

“What- What _fairy tale_ is he in?”

_“Sleeping beauty, apparently.”_

Duke’s mind seemed to short out. This was ridiculous. This was stupid. He wasn’t processing what he was hearing at all.

“So… So have you…

 _“…found a way to fix him?”_ Audrey finished, her voice tentative and worried. _“That’s what I texted you about. The only thing he can be saved by is true love’s kiss.”_

Duke sat down. He was overtaken by a sudden feeling of vertigo, his stomach twisted by nausea.

He was overwhelmed.

_“…Duke? Are you still there? This is a good thing!”_

“What if,” Duke’s mouth could barely form the words, every syllable painful to force out into the world, “What if I’m…”

Audrey waited for him to finish his sentence, which wasn’t what he wanted. Not at all. He wanted her to say it for him, because he didn’t know if he could.

“What if I’m… not his true love, Audrey? That’s,” he laughed weakly, “That’s a lot of pressure. I mean, we’re not even engaged.”

His joke fell flat, not nearly convincing enough to cover up his panic. Audrey sighed gently, which should’ve irritated him, but somehow didn’t. He’d seen her calm down countless witnesses during her time in Haven, and he trusted her to treat him with the same tact. He _needed_ her to. He couldn’t do this otherwise.

 _“You can do this, Duke. I’ve seen you two together. You’re…”_ A smile softened her voice, curled around her words, warmed her tone. Duke’s next breath came easier.

She didn’t continue speaking.

But Duke wasn’t sure he needed her to.

“Okay,” he whispered, “alright. I’ll try.”

_“I’m on my way to the hospital now. I’ll see you soon, okay? Both of you.”_

Duke nodded, laughed feebly. “Yeah. Yeah.”

Lost for words, he hung up.

He was left with silence. Left with _Nathan’s_ silence.

Daunted by the task that faced him, he stepped towards the man he’d come to see as more than a friend, the person who had accompanied him throughout the good and the bad years. With the past and all their history at his back, he thought of the future. _Their_ future. All the things they would do. All the ways they would need each other, even more than they already did.

Before he could hesitate any longer, Duke lifted the oxygen mask up off Nathan’s face, braced his hand on the edge of the bed, and leant down.

 

 


	34. true love

Nothing happened.

Nathan lay still, head tilted to the side from the kiss. Duke froze, horrified. Emotion bubbled up in his throat, choking him, and he was so overcome by panic that he didn’t notice Nathan’s lips parting, his eyelids twitching as he started to emerge from his sleep.

“Mm…”

The sound of Nathan’s slurred voice cut right through Duke’s hysteria. He watched Nathan's face intently, and the whole world faded into insignificance. He didn't dare speak.

 _Wake up._ _Please wake up. Please._

Seconds dragged on like torture. Time seemed to be both instantaneous and everlasting, and when Nathan’s eyes did eventually open, Duke found himself speechless, unable to move from where he was bent over the bed.

Thankfully, Nathan seemed to be speechless too. He gazed upwards into Duke’s eyes as if hypnotised, and something shifted between them. A feeling that Duke wasn't sure he could name. He wanted to lighten the moment with a joke, as per his typical coping mechanisms, but didn’t seem to be able to. He smiled, drawing his fingers down Nathan’s cheek; Nathan smiled back at him, a small frown of confusion creasing his forehead.

“Am I… in hospital?”

Duke’s smile grew into a grin, and he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to laugh or cry. So he settled for leaning down and kissing Nathan again.

“I’ll explain later.”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> should i end it here????? or do y'all want more (after i take a break) ????? ♡ also i'm apparently drawing haven [fanart](https://jaketheodoresmith.tumblr.com/tagged/my%20art) now, so that's a thing. stay tuned as i watch the season 5 finale for the first time..... O_O


	35. heal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> turns out i am continuing this story!!! yay!!!!! party time!!!!! *does a little dance* okay but, seriously, thanks for the support everyone!!! this is a super cool fandom and i'm real happy to be involved. i'm planning to turn this fic into an actual 'verse, and i'll hopefully be writing some haven advent calendar fics that'll attach neatly to this one.... so stay tuned for that!!

Everything was so soft. The world was painted in hazy hues of white and brown, everything indistinct and fuzzy as Nathan tried to wake up properly. Duke kissed him gently, eased their mouths together like they were always supposed to fit together this way, and Nathan supposed he should’ve been more panicked. He couldn’t feel the needle jutting into the fragile skin of his inner elbow, didn’t itch with discomfort beneath the stiff white gown that covered him– but he knew he was in a hospital. Logically, that _should_ have worried him.

But Duke was so close. He was so tender and warm, their lips making quiet noises, a thumb brushing against the line of Nathan’s jaw. Any feelings of panic or urgency were gone, faded into nonexistence by the way Duke was touching him, leaving only a vague feeling of concern in their wake. So, Nathan lay still and let Duke kiss him. It seemed he wasn’t capable of much more than that.

“Thank god,” Duke whispered, “thank god you’re okay, Nate.”

Nathan blinked his eyes open at that, the afore-mentioned confusion making its way to the forefront of his mind. He was met with a worried stare and a heavy, burdensome frown, Duke’s dark eyes weighed down by fear. He smiled, of course, but the expression wasn’t convincing. Mildly alarmed now, Nathan went to speak, but found his throat was too dry. He coughed, the loud noise interrupting the delicate moment they’d just shared, and Duke stood suddenly.

“I’ll, uh,” he gestured, “go get a nurse. You’ll need a drink of water, probably, it’s been two days since you-”

“Two _days?”_ Nathan asked incredulously, his voice raspy. “What happened?”

“It was- It was nothing. You’re okay now, which is,” Duke laughed, sounding almost hysterical, “Which is amazing, and I’m _so glad-”_

“Duke.” Nathan said slowly. “I’ve known you a long time. And I know…” He reached over, straining where he lay so that he could link their fingers together. “…When you’re trying to cover something up. So just… calm down for me, okay?”

Duke sighed shakily. Nathan smiled up at him, squeezed his hand. After several long seconds, Duke finally sat down, seeming resigned. Nathan held onto his hand, frowning deeply now.

“Why am I in hospital?” He kept his voice gentle, but didn’t bother to mask the discomfort in his tone. Waking up attached to tubes hadn’t been on his calendar. “Was I… hurt?”

“No. You should be okay now, I think. We’ll need to ask Audrey. She knows more about it than me.” Duke looked down at their hands like he needed a distraction. “It was a Trouble.”

“Oh.” Nathan paused. “Well, that’s somewhat relieving, actually.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it is. I thought…”

Duke’s voice trailed off. Nathan held his hand tighter.

“You collapsed,” Duke continued, his voice straining, “and I didn’t… I didn’t know what to do, I thought you were-”

Nathan sat up immediately, propping his upper body on one elbow, pulling Duke closer by the neck, understanding now why Duke had been so reluctant to explain. Their foreheads touched gently, both of them closing their eyes on instinct; Nathan couldn’t entirely hug him, not while hooked up to an IV, but he knew Duke needed the closeness. Knew what the tiny hitch in his breath meant, knew that he’d assumed the worst, knew that every loss he’d suffered in the past had driven him to the most terrible kind of pessimism.

“I’m okay now,” Nathan reassured him in a steady whisper, “I’m here. I’m right here.”

Duke nodded, the tips of their noses brushing. He laughed embarrassedly, and Nathan could hear the way his breathing was beginning to even out, his panic starting to subside. They’d never discussed this, not really. The pain Duke had been forced to carry for so damn long. The history he’d never quite disclosed.

Nathan had never asked. He knew Duke would open up about his past when he was ready.

“It was some kid,” Duke told him, “at that school you went to. They read some fairytale book, and their Trouble turned you into…”

“…Into what?”

Duke laughed again, sounding genuinely amused this time. “Sleeping Beauty.”

Nathan pulled away from him, an eyebrow raised. “…Seriously?”

Duke grinned. “Seriously, _Aurora_.”

Nathan pursed his lips, trying to contain his smile. “Not sure I believe you.”

“Well, you can ask Audrey then. If my word isn’t good enough.”

Nathan chuckled, relieved to hear the teasing edge in Duke’s voice. He adjusted his hold on Duke’s neck, pressing his thumb against the underside of Duke’s jaw, tilting his head so that their mouths could meet once again. This kiss was deeper, more intense now that Nathan was fully awake.

“I missed you,” Duke breathed, his voice low and throaty and aching with emotion, “It was barely any goddamn time at all, and I missed you _so much_ -”

Nathan kissed him harder, pulled at Duke’s hair, slid his tongue past Duke’s lips as if he could fix the pain in Duke’s voice just using his body. Duke’s hand rose, a broad palm wrapping tight around the back of Nathan’s neck, the sheets shifting as Duke inched closer to the bed. Nathan knew it was inappropriate, untimely, and probably just plain _wrong,_ but he felt heat boiling in the base of his stomach, a pulse of fervour that cut through the numbness. Oh. Oh, _god,_ he was getting hard in a goddamn hospital ward.

“Duke,” Nathan began, “we shouldn’t-”

The words died in his mouth when movement, sudden and unexpected, distracted him. He turned his head, looking past Duke’s face at the doorway– where, along with Audrey and Claire Callahan, his father stood, looking dumfounded and shocked.

Nathan froze.

 

 


	36. surreal

Nathan let go of Duke immediately, staring with undisguised horror at his father. He felt sick. This wasn’t how he’d planned it. He needed more time. He wasn’t _ready_.

“Chief, I-” His voice was uneven. “This isn’t- I can explain-”

“Hey,” Duke interrupted quietly, squeezing Nathan’s neck, “it’s okay. He knows.”

“I- _what?”_

Nathan gawked at his father, cheeks burning, heart hammering raw anxiety through every artery in his body. To his complete and utter shock, his dad nodded calmly, relaxed now that his shock had faded. The gruffness of his usual manner had fallen away to reveal something far more _tender_ than anything Nathan had ever learned to associate with his father.

“Yeah, Nathan,” he muttered, “I know about you two. And sure, it might take some getting used to, but if you think I really give a damn, then you’re wrong. I’m just so glad that you’re,” he cleared his throat, looking away now, “I’m just really relieved you’re awake, son.”

Nathan opened his mouth to reply. Truly, he did, but no sound came out.

He was _dumbfounded._

After several seconds, Nathan realised everyone was waiting for him to reply. He glanced at Duke, seeking some sort of reassurance that, no, he wasn't just going mad, and yes, his father had _actually_ spoken those words. Duke grinned at him, eyes going soft at the edges, and Nathan felt something coming loose in his chest. He’d never seen his father like this. He’d never known kindness when it didn’t come alongside gruff denial and manly posturing.

“…Thanks, dad,” he said quietly. He thought he should say something more, and he wanted to, but his father looked over with watery eyes, and Nathan knew he’d said enough. They held each other’s gazes for a long moment.

Garland Wuornos had never been this honest in his entire life.

“ _I’m_ glad you’re awake too,” Audrey announced, breaking the silence with a knowing smile, “If you hadn’t woken up, I would’ve been forced to get a new partner. Could you even imagine?”

Nathan laughed softly. “I’m sure you’d have been fine.”

“I’ll uh,” Garland gestured behind him, “I’ll go find a doctor or someone, tell them you’re awake so that they can clear you for release. Need you back on the job n’ all that.”

With that hasty announcement, he left, disappearing out into the hall. He had a hand pressed against his mouth like he was trying to hold back laughter, or even tears. Nathan didn’t know.

“That was cute,” Claire commented.

“Guess papa Wuornos isn’t as mean as you thought,” Duke teased him.

“I…” Nathan was still staring at the doorway, lost in thought, stunned by what he’d just witnessed. “I don’t know what to think.”

“He took it hard, when I called him to explain you were in hospital.” Audrey mused. “Not that he’ll ever admit it, probably– but he was seriously broken up, Nathan.”

“Yeah,” Duke agreed, “he really was.”

Nathan frowned at them both in turn, brain lagging somewhat in the face of his father’s emotional words. Duke chuckled quietly, kissed his cheek. Nathan, out of habit, glanced fearfully at Audrey and Claire, even though he knew he was in safe company. Claire seemed to sense his distress, and winked at him.

“Hey Audrey,” she chirped, “can you buy me lunch?”

Audrey sighed patiently and ushered her out into the hallway, leaving Duke and Nathan alone together.

 

***

 

The doctors didn’t take long to clear Nathan for release, though they cautioned him against operating heavy machinery or engaging in any particularly strenuous activities. (They gave this advice with an amount of amused indignation; Nathan was a repeat customer, and not very good at doing what the doctors told him.) Duke’s truck was waiting faithfully in the hospital parking lot, where Nathan hoped it hadn’t incurred any parking ticket expenses.

Nathan got in the car first, watched as Duke ambled up onto his seat.

“Where to?” Duke asked as he started the engine. He was looking down, fiddling with keys and whatnot, so he didn’t see Nathan’s expression; he didn’t see Nathan watching him, revelling in the presence of a man who had waited at his bedside and caught him as he fell, astonished by the fact that his oldest friend had become his lover, his boyfriend, his closest confidant. Nathan watched as Duke brushed a wave of dark hair out of his face, sleeves too long and pulled over his knuckles, and didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to eclipse this feeling in words, didn’t know why the warmth in his chest hurt so much.

He’d never loved before. Not like this.

Duke looked up, eyebrows raised. “Hey, you with me? Where to, Nate?”

Nathan looked out the windscreen, smiling. “Your place.”

“Oh? You don’t want to go home?”

Nathan’s smile grew. He wanted to look Duke in the eyes, but didn’t know if he could. He was, after all, his father’s son. He didn’t do confessions very well.

“I am home.”

Those three words hung in the air. Not the three words Nathan wanted to say, but significant enough to carry meaning that couldn’t be mistaken. Duke sat there for a while, still and silent– but, before Nathan could gather enough hindsight to become embarrassed, Duke closed the distance between them, pulling him in for a kiss as heavy and deliberate as the ones they’d traded in that hospital room. Nathan closed his eyes and leant into the sensations, prickling shocks of anticipation humming through his body; he knew that, if they’d been standing, Duke would be grabbing a handful of his ass, making his intentions _known._ It never ceased to amaze him, how much he always gave way beneath Duke’s intent, how they softened for one another, pushing until they were both begging. He fumbled for Duke’s hand, gripped it tight.

“Please,” Nathan breathed, words falling into the heat of Duke’s mouth, “please take me home with you, Duke.”

“Yes, sir,” Duke murmured, voice low and rumbling, sarcasm lost under a tirade of arousal and emotion. Nathan dug his teeth into the fullness of Duke’s lip, tugged gently, leaving Duke groaning. He sounded almost exasperated in his pleasure, like he couldn’t _quite_ believe they could have it this good.

Nathan could empathise.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sexytimes incoming, gosh.... (〃￣ω￣〃) hueheheheheeh   
>  also i'm having a super shitty day so please excuse any spelling/grammatical errors (｡•́︿•̀｡) life's been hard lately. please leave a comment, if you've got a spare second?? it'd mean a lot. ♡


	37. switch

It was drizzling gently when they got back to Duke’s boat, the warmth of the air cut through with the smell of rain, dots of moisture decorating their clothes. They didn’t speak as they walked from the car over onto the deck, boots making familiar noises against weathered wood, but Duke took Nathan’s hand, held it tightly as he unlocked the _Cape Rogue_ ’s metal door. There wasn’t much to say, really, because they’d said it all before. The frantic secrecy of their initial union, manifesting itself in fast movement and bitten-off cries, had faded away to reveal a quieter, more intimate relationship. Everyone knew now, even Garland. There was no point in rushing.

Duke led Nathan to his bedroom, closed the door behind them, and laid his hands on Nathan’s hips like he could keep him forever this way. Keep him safe from all the sorrow that Haven was likely to bring them as long as they stayed here.

The first few heavy drops of rain were like piano notes, distant but purposeful above their heads as they kissed. Duke’s hands drifted to Nathan’s ass, tentative at first, then gripping solidly, fingers pressing below the rucked-up edge of Nathan’s shirt. Though Nathan couldn’t feel the touch, couldn’t sense Duke through fabric, he slanted his hips forward like he _knew_ anyway, and Duke felt his pulse begin to pound in his throat. His back hit the door when Nathan leaned against him, one hand braced over Duke’s shoulder for leverage, grinding into him like he was getting paid for it.

Duke groaned.

“Nate,” he breathed, “Nathan, hold on. Hold on. I’ve got… There’s something I need to…”

Nathan huffed out a breathless noise, sounding almost annoyed. It was cute, more than anything else, and he rested his forehead against the wall beside Duke’s face.

“What is it?”

Duke nearly whined when Nathan bit at the lobe of his ear, dragging his teeth in a way that was _probably_ payback for the dirty kissing in the hospital. Duke closed his eyes, felt nervousness flutter in his chest.

“I told you before that I’d never…”

He let the words hover, tentative and whispered, and felt Nathan go still as the realisation kicked in.

“I want it to be you, Nate,” Duke continued, “I want…”

Nathan exhaled hard, like he was _so turned on_ he couldn’t even voice it in words, which was good because Duke was feeling a bit embarrassed at being so goddamn virginal about all this. It’d been a long time since he’d done something new, and this would certainly take the cake.

Nathan pressed a light kiss against his cheek, a tiny little peck that made Duke open his eyes, amused and very nearly blushing. Nathan grinned shyly at him, those damn blue eyes softer than Duke could have ever thought he deserved.

“I won’t…” Nathan cleared his throat, “I probably won’t last long. You know that I…” he looked down timidly, “That I’m…”

“I don’t care,” Duke told him honestly, “I don’t give a damn, Nate.”

Nathan’s smile grew, and the movements of his lips held Duke rapt, the warmth between their clothed bodies holding something precious, something Duke was afraid to shatter just by moving. Nathan must have seen the flare of panic in his eyes, the lingering anxiety from the past two days, because he ducked his head forward again, pressing an open-mouthed kiss beneath Duke's jaw. Mouthing at him without any trace of reservation, knowing exactly how to make Duke moan, exactly how to make him quake and sigh, leaving pink blushes with the edges of his teeth. The rain outside started to fall proper, a distant hush that was interrupted by the wet sounds of Nathan's mouth.

“We’ll be okay,” Nathan promised, words vibrating against Duke's neck, “I’m okay now, Duke.”

Duke sighed, frustrated and eternally grateful, head falling back against the sturdy door with a metallic _thunk._

“Are you psychic or something?”

Nathan laughed. He began to kiss Duke harder, faster, hands beginning to roam like he couldn’t decide which parts of Duke he wanted to touch the most. Duke went lax where he was pressed up against the door, too many things attempting to flood his brain at once. He’d wanted such licence to be weak, to be _taken care of_ by Nathan, for so long that he had no idea where to begin, no idea how to be further than totally at Nathan’s mercy. Nathan slid fingers into his hair, tilted his head to the side so that he could bite down harder, leave marks that Duke wouldn't be able to hide, even with a deliberately-placed scarf. His movements weren't harsh by any stretch of the imagination, still gentle and slow with Duke's comfort as a foremost concern, but the dominance of Nathan's kissing had Duke going weak at the knees. This wasn't his first time with a man, or even his first time with  _Nathan,_ but it still felt different. It felt special.

Nathan had been so quiet these past few days, reduced to a voiceless and motionless body on a hospital bed, and all Duke wanted was for Nathan to make his presence  _known._ He wanted Nathan's insistence, his touch and his moans and his breathless demands– he wanted to feel Nathan's life against his fingertips. He wanted tangible, real proof. He wanted Nathan inside him.

"We'll be okay," Nathan told him again, voice dipping down lower, heavy with something carnal and loving.

Duke believed him.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the porn is coming, i _promise_ lol   
>  also y'all should totally try listening to [this](http://www.rainymood.com/) while writing.


	38. coalesce

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE PORN HAS ARRIVED. Once again, no beta reading has been done, etc etc etc, PLEASE ENJOY AND POSSIBLY LEAVE A COMMENT!!! ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ (((comments keep me writing, without them i cease to be lmao)))

They kissed against the door until Duke started to groan about the ache in his back, rain slanting hard against the _Cape Rouge,_ almost deafening now. Nathan laughed at him without any real heat in his voice, cheeks pink and eyes bright as he tugged Duke towards the bed. They looked at each other for long enough that the moment could be significant. Some amount of anxiety must’ve shown in Duke’s expression, because Nathan brought their bodies together once again, lips meeting messily, both their eyes falling closed.

“We don’t have to,” Nathan reassured him quietly, “if you don’t want-”

“I _do_ want, Nathan,” Duke grumbled. He yanked off his shirt, threw it to the side, and bodily launched himself at the bed. He landed with a huff, earning himself a delighted burst of laughter from Nathan. The sound, carefree and relaxed, broke through some of the seriousness that Duke was feeling, and he was glad of it. He _did_ want this. He’d wanted it for a while, and had been mulling over the prospect ever since realising Nathan would probably be so overstimulated that he wouldn’t even be able to _enjoy_ bottoming. They'd get there one day, he was sure, but until then he wanted to give this part of him to Nathan.

Duke rolled onto his back and propped himself up on his elbows, grinned at Nathan salaciously. He let his legs fall open slowly, bit at his lip for good measure. Nathan’s eyelids dipped down slow, his smile heavy and almost calculating. His gaze sure wasn’t staying on Duke’s _face._

“Putting on a show, huh?

“Damn right,” Duke replied with as much sexiness as he could manage without sarcasm, “just for you, babe.”

“Told you not to call me that.”

Duke snorted. “I’ll call you what I want.”

Nathan took off his shirt too, dropped it at his feet with a patient sigh. Then he just stood there. Tilted his head to the side, eyes wandering down Duke’s body, eating him up. Duke swallowed down the spike of heat that threatened to overwhelm him, the feeling of being _watched_ making him feel simultaneously like the most desired man on the planet, and the smallest thing that existed. That was what this was, after all, wasn’t it? He was about to be fucked. The masochism of it, the powerlessness of finally giving in…

…shit. He’d wanted this for _so long._

He reached a hand down, hardly able to believe he was doing this, letting Nathan see him the way no other man had. But it was worth it just to witness the change in Nathan’s expression, just to hear the hitch in his breath when Duke pinched his zipper and tugged it down, the slow grate of metal teeth humming through the air. He was hard from Nathan grinding against him, and the pressure beneath denim couldn’t be mistaken as anything other than what it was.

“All or nothing, right?” Duke whispered. “For both of us.”

Nathan swallowed, a look flashing through his eyes that Duke couldn’t quite decipher. He nodded, after a moment, bending down to take off his pants and shoes. Duke stayed where he was, one hand hovering at the front of his pants, with bated breath and a racing heart. He didn’t quite know why he wasn’t undressing too. They’d never been formal with each other, not since their first night– but it felt right, that he should wait. That he should let Nathan be the one to strip him, as slowly or as quickly as he wanted.

Nathan, finally naked now, made his way towards the bed. Duke’s gaze moved instinctually downwards, straying between Nathan’s hard thighs.

“Christ,” he breathed, “certainly  _standing to attention_ , aren’t you?”

Nathan chuckled, kneeling on the edge of the bed, edging forward on his knees. The sway of his hips was hypnotising, skin stretching uninterrupted from the curve of his lowermost ribs to the shape of his kneecaps. Duke was spellbound by the contour of him, the silhouette of his nude figure. No matter how many times he got to see Nathan like this, he would never get sick of it.

“I could say the same thing about you,” Nathan murmured, kneeling between Duke’s open legs, “if I were so inclined.”

“Hmm,” Duke hummed, peering up at him, “ _are_ you so inclined, officer Wuornos?”

Nathan’s lips twitched with a small, barely-there smile, but it was obvious there was something else on his mind. He reached over slowly, ran his hands across Duke’s chest, fingers continuing down, down, down, and diverting at the points of Duke’s hips, sliding around so that Nathan could brace his palms against the curves of Duke’s thighs. He yanked Duke down the bed, lifting his ass off the sheets, bringing their bodies closer. Duke sucked in a breath, felt the warmth of Nathan’s skin against his jeans, the hardening heat of his cock smearing moisture in its wake.

“Shit,” Duke sighed, the tenor of his voice stuttering. Nathan had never been this heavy-handed before. “You- You better get to fucking me, Nate, before we get washed away in this damn storm.”

Nathan didn’t pause to consider the weather outside. He laid Duke’s body down where he saw fit, hands lingering, fingers massaging passingly at the swell of Duke’s ass beneath fabric. It was a heady thing, the way Nathan made him feel; and lying beneath him, watching light settle and fall over the landscape of Nathan’s naked body, Duke had never felt that particular emotion this strongly before.

“You never told me why I woke up." Nathan said suddenly, words abrupt and unrehearsed. " _How_ you woke me up.”

Duke’s lips parted to answer, but there was no point. The tightness of Nathan’s expression said that he already knew. Duke turned his head to the side, closed his eyes, not sure whether it was fear or embarrassment that had him so shy.

“You were kissing me,” Nathan continued, “when I came to. The fairytale, doesn’t it say the only way to wake up Sleeping Beauty is-”

“- true love’s kiss.” Duke interrupted, his tone settling into a façade of dullness, as if he could pass this off as being a commonplace fact. “Yeah. Audrey didn’t know if it would work, and neither did I. But it did, so. I guess all’s well that ends well, huh?”

Nathan didn’t reply. The silence stretched on, filled with the sounds of rain. Eventually his grip on Duke’s legs shifted, the bed dipping when he leaned forward, laying his naked body over Duke’s clothed limbs. His hips pressed down in a slow, eager grind as he took Duke’s face between his hands, kissed him deep.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” he said, “if that’s why you’re-”

“But it _does_ ,” Duke whispered, “It _does_ mean something. Nathan…”

Nathan went still. He gasped quietly, face against Duke’s cheek.

“Duke-”

“Please, just,” Duke began, a frantic edge to his voice that couldn’t be misconstrued as anything other than _begging._ “Can we talk about this later?”

Nathan sighed shakily against his mouth. “Okay. Fine. Just as long as you know I… I also...”

His voice trailed off. The words he wasn’t saying curled around Duke like a lullaby, settling into his skin, leaving a mark that would never quite leave him. Like fabric forever imbued with the scent of flowers, or the wood of a mezzaluna board saturated by the piquant scent of a hundred herbs. He arched upwards, reaching both arms around Nathan, telling him, _not yet._ He knew they weren’t ready to say those three words aloud. Not properly, not like this. It was too much.

Especially after the last two days.

Nathan started to kiss him like he _knew,_ crushing his mouth against Duke’s. His hands found Duke’s wrists with an efficiency that spoke to years of professional police work, and Duke wondered if Nathan had imagined this every time he’d pressed Duke up against police cars with the weight of his body, hissing threats in his ear in lieu of dirty promises. Nathan moved Duke’s arms upwards, pinning his fists against the bed with steady fingers, holding him still. Duke moaned as Nathan’s other hand followed a clear path downward, finishing what Duke had started.

Nathan worked his tongue into Duke’s mouth, fingers wrapping around Duke’s cock, firm and steady. Duke bucked and trembled, words swallowed by Nathan’s lips. Though he knew Nathan would, of course, stop if asked, being treated like this was intoxicating. It was all he could do to lie there and let Nathan plunder his mouth, jacking him off furiously.

Duke let himself go limp.

He let Nathan touch and fondle and kiss him, their bodies finding some kind of broken rhythm, Duke’s cock trapped by hard denim, Nathan’s hand fitting awkwardly between them. They both ended up gasping, open mouths slotting together, greedy breaths seeking contact, moans swallowed and strangled by the tightness of throats.

Eventually, Nathan’s fist was slick with Duke’s come, and Duke _really_ could not take this anymore. He drew breath to protest, to _beg,_ but Nathan growled an order against his lips;

“Turn over.”

“God,” Duke managed in reply, his voice more wrecked than he’d ever before heard it, “You’re _filthy_.”

Nathan hummed out an agreement, lifting himself up so that he could flip Duke over by the hips, ease him around onto his stomach. Duke went willingly, gasping hollowly when Nathan took hold of his waistband and _pulled._ Duke’s body jerked with the force of it.

“Why, officer Wuornos,” he panted, “you sure are _dominant_ tonight.”

Nathan laughed. Duke heard his jeans landing beside the bed, discarded carelessly along with his shoes. He groaned when he felt Nathan settle heavy over his back, sucking insistent kisses into the nape of his neck.

“Get a real kick out of the authority thing, don’t you?” Nathan asked. It was a rhetorical question, and Duke felt lightheaded.

“Hell, Nate,” he replied listlessly, “you probably just arrested me too many damn times.”

“Maybe so.” Nathan replied. One of his hands migrated from Duke’s hip, cautiously inching towards a place Duke had never before allowed anybody to touch. Well, aside from the occasional woman while he was getting head, but that was about the extent of it. He knew this would be different. He knew it would likely hurt, at least at first, but he still spread his legs and lifted up onto his forearms, pushing back against Nathan’s searching touch.

He felt the wet slide of Nathan’s cock against his bare ass. Immediately, he dropped his face down, forehead against the softness of a pillow, if only to stifle the blush on his face. He knew how this went, had done it many times with many men– but never _like this._ Never on the receiving end.

“Are you-”

“If you ask me whether I’m sure,” Duke grumbled, “I just might kick you.”

Nathan paused, and then leaned forward. His lips came to rest against the top knob of Duke’s spine. When he spoke next, his words were muffled and soft.

“Just need this to be perfect for you. For both of us. You’ve always been so good to me, Duke. Always taken such amazing care of me. Want to take care of you, too.”

Duke closed his eyes, licked at his lips. “I want this, Nathan.”

“Okay. Okay.”

“Just- Just do one thing for me, would you?”

“Anything,” Nathan promised, the sincerity in his voice making Duke ache in ways he was almost frightened of.

 _Be gentle,_ Duke wanted to say. But he couldn’t seem to voice the request.

“…Do up my hair?” He asked instead, voice shaking just enough to let Nathan know, in no uncertain terms, that he was nervous. Even if he wouldn’t admit it. “You know, so it doesn’t… annoy me. Or whatever.”

Nathan sighed lovingly, a silent _of course_ hovering behind his exhalation. He took hold of Duke’s loosened ponytail gently, fingers twisting sleek black hair into a firm bun. Duke focussed on breathing, body twitching when one of Nathan’s hands settled on his back. There was the quiet click of a cap being opened behind him, and then a tap as Nathan set the tube of lubricant down on the bedside table.

Here Duke was, on his hands and knees, about to be fucked. It was as frightening as it was perfect.

“Come on now, then,” Duke whispered, “come on, Nathan.”

Nathan settled behind him. He rubbed his thumb against fragile, silk-soft skin, making teasing circles that Duke knew were supposed to ease him into this. But he was still shocked when Nathan changed the angle of his hand, slipped past that barrier, his thumb moving inside just _barely_. Duke choked out a sound that was something like surprise, but not quite pain.

“Are you-”

“I’m _good._ I’m fine. Just- Just keep going.”

Nathan kissed Duke’s neck, and did, starting to slowly massage his way inward. He murmured quiet words, soft endearments that were very nearly swallowed by the sound of rainfall outside. He offered gushing whispers full of honesty, meant for Duke exclusively. They were alone in this place together. This warm bed, this creaking boat. Just the two of them.

Duke found himself calming despite the foreign feeling inside him, the tension ebbing from his muscles, the strain of sleepless nights and hours beside a hospital bed finally fading into relaxation. He sighed, trembling and content, the occasional soft curse falling from his lips as Nathan readied him. He wasn’t sure if he liked it, this feeling of invasiveness, but there was a… _warmth_ inside, a blooming sensation of pleasure, sparking something deep within. He knew what it was, that place inside him, but he’d never experienced it before. In the past he’d looked at other men with envy, jealous of their abandon as they writhed and jerked beneath him, wishing he could one day let go like that.

And now?

He finally could.

“Almost,” Nathan told him, two fingers curled up into Duke’s body, “you’re almost ready.”

“Yeah?” Duke asked breathlessly.

“Yeah. And I want you to turn over, when we’re finished with this.”

“Oh?” Duke arched his head to the side, seeking out Nathan’s lips, jolting when Nathan slid another finger into him.

“Mm,” Nathan groaned, “I want to see your face when I fuck you.”

He was smiling against Duke’s mouth when he said it, and Duke couldn’t help but laugh.

“Remember how I said you were filthy, Nathan?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I- oh god, I _reiterate_ that.”

“Does this feel good?”

“I- _fuck_ yes, Nathan-”

“You want it?” Nathan whispered, driving his hand deeper now, hips jutting against Duke’s ass like he couldn’t control himself anymore. “You want it now?”

Duke panted somewhat breathlessly, head hanging. He nodded. Nathan pulled away from him, gently tugging him upwards too, urging him to roll over. Duke did, guided by Nathan’s hands until he was splayed on his back, looking up at the man he loved. Nathan grinned down at him, and Duke could’ve cried when he realised the feeling was mutual.

“Something kind of intense about this, huh,” Duke remarked weakly.

Nathan smiled. The affection in his eyes was the kind that could not be bought. “Yeah.”

With that, Nathan lifted Duke’s legs, drawing knees up towards his shoulders. Duke’s chest tightened. He wanted to hide his face, wanted to escape the embarrassment he couldn’t help but feel because of this position, but he didn’t dare look away from Nathan’s eyes. He’d never had sex like this before. The phrase _making love_ had always seemed trite in the past. Nobody else had made him feel so vulnerable, so defenceless, so… _open_.

“Do it,” he urged Nathan quietly, “come on.”

Nathan swallowed, nodded. He smiled, the curve of his mouth apologetic and worried, frightened he’d hurt Duke. He held the base of his cock, shifted forward. Duke braced himself, reaching blindly beside him to grasp at sheets, still not breaking Nathan’s gaze. He felt blunt pressure against him, his mouth opening in a silent cry when Nathan eased inside.

He didn’t look away.

It hurt, more than anything else, but it was a delicious pain. A slick, taut ache, one that filled him like never before. He couldn’t move, couldn’t even moan, incapable of doing anything further than lying still. He was overcome. There was something so perfect about it, a bone-deep satisfaction at being so entirely owned.

Nathan’s breath hitched, the fragile little gasp sending shocks of electricity through Duke’s blood. He inched forward, eyes alight with emotion, until his groin was pressed solidly against Duke’s ass. Duke let out a choked noise, something beyond the coherence. Nathan answered with a moan, the guttural sound punching out of him like he’d just been struck. He bowed over slightly, the slumped posture causing him to move inside Duke.

“You’re so… _tight_.”

Duke came.

He was caught off-guard, arching up off the bed, gasping hollowly as his whole body was racked with shudders. He didn’t even touch himself. He didn’t _need_ to, not when faced a revelation that encompassed his entire being, a blinding epiphany that had him senseless and voiceless. He was lost in oblivion. He wasn’t even aware of himself, disconnected from his body while simultaneously a slave to the explosions of heat that were engulfing him. He didn't feel like this with anybody else. Maybe it was the emotion of it, maybe they just had a real connection; either way, nobody else was capable of making Duke Crocker come like this, and that was a universal fucking _fact_.

Duke's orgasm lasted a good long while. Eventually, still lurching like a puppet with his strings cut, Duke returned to himself, blinking sluggishly in the aftermath. Nathan was silent, staring down at him with a look of undisguised shock and wonder on his face. Duke stared back, and then started to laugh. And couldn’t stop.

“Oh god, I’m-” Duke covered his face with his hands, hysterical gasps of laughter shaking through him, “I’m sorry-”

“Don’t,” Nathan started to laugh too, “Don’t apologise.”

“I’m- Jesus, I’m sorry, we only just-”

“It’s _okay,_ Duke-”

Duke laughed louder. He just couldn’t control himself. Tears of mirth bloomed at the corners of his eyes, which were squeezed shut, and he held a hand over his mouth in an attempt to stifle his chortles. Nathan leaned forward, hugging him close, giggles shaking through them both now.

“I just- It felt so good, and then you had to go and say _that-”_

“It’s okay, Duke-”

“I know it is, Nathan, I know it is. Oh god, oh god. It feels,” Duke hiccupped the words against Nathan’s neck, trying to suck in breaths between bouts of laughter. “It feels _so good,_ you’re finally inside me, you’re-”

Nathan swayed his hips forward as if being reminded caused him to be hyperaware of their position, and a loud moan cut through Duke’s laughter. He buried his face in Nathan’s skin, smiling with thrilled abandon, eyes still closed.

“Yeah, yeah,” he breathed, “that’s it. Keep going. Keep going.”

Nathan moved his hips again, faster this time, and Duke’s head tipped back, mouth opening in a lax expression of ecstasy. He was floating, loose and pliant after his orgasm, stunned by sensations he had never before experienced.

“Come on, come on,” he babbled, words strung together into a barely-coherent hum of noise, “Show me what you’ve got, Nate, yeah-”

“Duke,” Nathan panted, “ _Duke,”_

They both knew Nathan wouldn’t last long, but that was fine. This wasn’t sport. This wasn’t a competition.

Duke rocked his hips up to meet Nathan’s unsteady thrusts, clenching tight around him, arms outstretched above his head– and something colossal passed between them, epitomised by the clasp of Nathan’s fingers in Duke’s, the act that turned them both into ragged messes, collapsed against each other. Nathan crammed his face against the pillow, crying out, buried to the hilt and shaking through the last of it. Duke thought he might just implode, but that was perfectly alright with him. He was content to let the world end, at present; nothing had ever felt this perfect before.

They lay there, mostly unable to move.

Nathan’s breathing grew erratic, and Duke knew he’d had enough, knew that physical sensation was starting to become painful for him. He pressed a brief kiss against Nathan’s temple, lips forming a lazy pout.

“Shower?”

Nathan nodded, smiling with dazed relief.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please (please) feed fic writer with comments~ ♡


	39. requited

Meanwhile, Audrey and Claire went to Rosemary’s bakery for lunch.

Claire had been pretty excited to realise that she could now cash in on Audrey’s seemingly universal police discount. Audrey entertained her requests for food, coffee, and gifts with eager willingness and only the smallest amount of exasperation. Truth be told, she liked spoiling Claire. Liked to see the younger woman biting down into fluffy pastry and flaky crust, just so that she could reach across the table and wipe crumbs from the corner of that plump mouth. Meringue. Cherry. Pecan. Apple. Cream. Chocolate. Claire certainly had a sweet tooth. And Audrey was as shameless a voyeur as anybody else in a relationship with Claire Callahan. Her face was too beautiful not to be worshipped.

“What’s that?” Audrey asked when the waiter placed a dessert in front of Claire, along with an iced caramel latte.

“Orange tart,” Claire announced, sounding delighted, “the filling is custard. _Orange_ custard. I’ve been waiting to try it for _so_ long. But I get so busy at work, you know, I don’t always have time to sample Rosemary’s new wares.”

Claire dipped her spoon into the smooth, gently rippled surface of the tart. Audrey looked away. Outside at the rain. When Claire moaned, closing her eyes and tipping back her head, Audrey almost wanted to laugh. Claire knew _exactly_ how pretty she was.

“God, this is _delicious._ You want some?”

“No, thanks.”

“Right,” Claire replied, a teasing lilt to her voice, “I’m sure your black coffee will be arriving soon. Or, should I say, your _tar_ will be arriving soon?”

Audrey smirked. “There’s nothing wrong with black coffee. Or protein.”

“There’s nothing wrong with _sugar_ either,” Claire countered mischievously, “or… am I all the sugar you need?”

She winked. Audrey, not missing a beat, shook her head with an amused smile. Their flirting was ceaseless, but somehow she never got sick of it. It was refreshing to feel so young, to be in a relationship with a woman so very unlike herself. A _girl,_ almost. The title was certainly one Claire aspired to earn. She flaunted her youth like it was a gift. Like she had earned the right be childish, especially when she was expected to bear the weight of Haven’s Troubles on her shoulders in her professional context.

The waiter appeared again, depositing a shepard’s pie and a coffee in front of Audrey. Claire wrinkled her nose at the savoury dish, but didn’t offer any judgemental commentary. She looked back down at her own plate, expression clearing for a moment as she considered her next words. Audrey, cutting into her pie, didn’t notice.

“You must be glad,” she said, eventually, her voice quieter than before, “that Nathan is awake again.”

Audrey sighed. Claire raised her eyebrows, but did not press the issue.

“Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

Claire tilted her head silently. She knew what Audrey would say next. She had years of psychiatric training that told her, in no uncertain terms, where Audrey’s insecurities lay.

“Claire, I…” Audrey began, face still turned downward, “I wanted to… thank you. I was short with you before, when I was worried about Nathan, and I-”

“It’s alright to be vulnerable, Audrey.”

Audrey looked up from her pie, gaze weighed down by a wariness that Claire, by now, had come to see as familiar. She smiled at Audrey in reply, careful not to let the expression appear pitying.

“I know you care about him. He’s your friend. It’s only natural, to be anxious when your friend gets hurt.”

Audrey set her jaw, lips pulling into a thin line. “I’m a cop, Claire. More than that, I’m a cop in _Haven._ I have to be able to deal with this stuff. I can’t-”

“What you _can’t_ do,” Claire interrupted, firmly as she dared, “is operate like a machine. You’re only human, Audrey.”

Audrey held Claire’s stare for a long moment, stubborn and tough as ever. But she eventually relented, slumping down slightly and nodding her acquiescence. Claire leaned forward, bracing her elbows on the table, grinning. Audrey scowled embarrassedly, glancing off to the side. She took up her coffee and had a deep gulp.

“You’re cute,” Claire announced.

“Shut up,” Audrey muttered.

“We should celebrate, you know. Judging by how they were acting in the hospital, I’m sure Nathan and Duke are _celebrating_ right now.”

“Oh, god,” Audrey squeezed her eyes shut, “I don’t want to think about that, Claire.”

“Come on, they’re cute and you know it.”

“…Yeah,” Audrey admitted, laughing now, “yeah, they are, I suppose.”

Claire considered her for a moment longer, before reaching across the table and taking Audrey’s hand in her own. Audrey stilled, shocked by the tender gesture.

“I’m…”

The words died in Claire’s mouth before she could force them out, and she stalled, surprised by her own shyness. She had been writing this speech in her head for a while now, but hadn’t planned to voice it so soon.

She’d never enjoyed confessions.

“…I’m not a romantic person, Audrey. I never was, even as a young girl. But I like you. I like hanging out with you.”

It was the most honest Claire had ever been with another woman. She felt something warm in her chest– a feeling full of trust and comfort, a swell of affection. Audrey blinked, surprised by Claire’s words, the blooming sensation mirrored beneath her own skin. It was a mutual feeling, something that silently passed between them. Far too intimate for their public setting.

“Just because I’m not romantic doesn’t mean I don’t… care.” Claire cleared her throat. “I want you to know what kind of a person I am, because I don’t want you to misunderstand me. I don’t want to hurt you. If you’re looking for love, then-”

Audrey chuckled. Claire arched an eyebrow upwards, blatantly unimpressed.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh.” Audrey turned her hand over, blanketing the other woman’s fingers with her own. “Look at me, Claire. At this age, do you really think I have the aptitude for serious relationships? Or the ability to settle down? I’m not looking to get married.”

Claire frowned. “Who says it’s too late? You desire what you desire, Audrey. Age doesn’t change that.”

Audrey snorted. “Only somebody young would say that.”

“Listen, Audrey, I just,” Claire began, voice starting to sound strained now, “I just want you to know that, if you _do_ want something I can’t give you, then it’s okay to… to move on. I don’t expect to tie you down. You’re a beautiful woman. And I… don’t want to own you. I don’t want you to feel obligated to stay with me.”

Audrey watched her evenly, the edges of her mouth tightening with a small smile. Her eyes softened, an amazed disbelief colouring her expression. Like she couldn’t quite believe Claire’s words, not with the weight of her past whispering lies and inadequacies in her ear. But she was here now, a lifetime away from the days when she’d been lonely and afraid, so she held Claire’s hand tighter and willed away her own trepidation. Let the contentment of their relationship, unique and special as it was, nestle unhindered beneath the curves of her ribs.

“This,” Audrey began softly, punctuating the word by clasping Claire’s hand, “is all I want.”

Claire’s mouth quirked upwards. “I like the sound of that, Audrey. I really do. But I’m worried you’ll end up _needing_ me. And that… isn’t something I can give you.”

Audrey sighed. She reached up to press her fingers against the strong line of Claire’s cheekbone. Her touch travelled down and around Claire’s jaw, and then up under her pert chin.

“I don’t need people, Claire,” she whispered, “I learned not to need people a very long time ago. But I do _want_ you.”

A shiver skittered up Claire’s spine, a hum of pleasure sparked by the eyes watching her; bright as cornflower and delft, steady as those of a learned gunman.

“…Glad to hear that.” Claire murmured. Audrey’s lashes, fine as strands of wheat, dipped down low. She leaned across the table, the button of her coat clinking against the edge of her plate, one palm braced against the tablecloth. Claire closed her eyes in anticipation of the kiss. Audrey licked past her lips smoothly, the glide of her mouth making something flutter high and nervy in the inner pit of Claire’s stomach. She wondered if Audrey tasted orange custard on her tongue.

“We should finish having lunch,” Claire told her, voice somewhat breathless. She was certain the rest of the café patrons were eyeballing them.

“Nah,” Audrey replied huskily.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Knowing what we do about Audrey's background in canon, and the abuse she witnessed/experienced as a child, I wanted to explore how this might affect her personal life. The writers treated her personality very well in the show, but I always thought that she might have turned out a bit differently, having seen such things as a young person... so I decided to explore that here. ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ I've taken liberties with Claire's character, too, and cast her as an aromantic person. She's inspired by an aromantic friend of mine, so I hope anybody reading who's aromantic thinks I've done an okay job! When I asked him to sum up his aromantic identity, he quoted a Mumford & Sons song, saying, 'lend me your hand and we'll conquer them all, but lend me your heart and I'll just let you fall; lend me your eyes, I can change what you see; but your soul you must keep totally free'. So that inspired me a lot here.


	40. victory

Garland went home alone that night.

Past a certain age he knew he didn’t have a right to demand his son’s company, which was fine, though it hurt a little on some cold winter nights. Tonight, however, was not one of those nights.

Nathan was _alive._

And that was all Garland needed.

He trudged up to his house, boots making hard noises against pavement, only serving to emphasise his isolation. No matter. He was grinning from ear, bouncing back after every step, sheepish in his happiness. He and his boy had never hugged, never exchanged pleasantries further than the occasional praise or comment– it came with the territory, given the Trouble they both suffered– so the fact he’d had the balls to look Nathan in the eye while speaking _honestly_ was… revolutionary. There was a cast iron cage around his heart, inherited from his father and his father’s father before him, and he’d always been told that men didn’t share their feelings. Well, fuck that. He was too old to keep up the charade now. Too tired to keep fighting. He'd wanted to give in for so damn long, and now he finally had.

_‘…Thanks, dad.’_

Those words, spoken softly and with no small amount of astonishment, were playing in Garland’s head like a record. His steps hastened, carrying him towards the threshold of his home quickly, pellets of rain beginning to tap against the battered fabric of his police jacket. He unlocked his door with unsteady hands, fingers practically trembling with happiness.

Normally, as per his usual afternoon ritual, he would pour himself a hard drink and sip it in stoic silence, staring at his television without even seeing what he was watching. He’d fall asleep in his armchair, phone resting nearby in the hope that Nathan would call him. He would wake up in the morning, alone. Nothing would change.

As it was, for the first time in years, he didn’t _want_ to drink.

He closed and locked the door behind him, the sky outside the house washed over dark with rain, thunder rolling in to stay. The house was swathed in shadows, but Garland didn’t fear that empty space tonight. The air was humid, thick with the smell of rain and wet earth, and he took the deepest breath he had in forever. Finally. Finally, he could _breathe._

This was the house Nathan had grown up in. And Garland could almost see him standing at the base of the stairs, toys clasped tightly in his small hands, moonlight glancing off his chestnut hair. The memory came with the charm of a simpler time, Nathan’s tiny voice babbling incoherent words, his face smooth and not yet weathered by age, worry, or the knowledge he would one day feel nobody’s touch. His mother’s hand coming down to rest on his head, a palm against his cheek. Her laugh floating through rooms that would, after her death, become heavy and quiet.

“I did it, hon,” Garland told her, voice catching in his throat, “I finally did it.”

She didn’t answer.

But he didn’t really need her to.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading, everyone. i wanted to continue this, but i'm not in the best place right now, so... yeah.   
>  comments would be cool. ♡


	41. sketches (epilogue)

hello everyone!! i did some very nsfw sketches for this story, because ~~uuuhh i have writer's block with another fic~~  i was really fond of this story!! (dedicated to all you readers out there, and everyone who was kind enough to leave me a comment or two along the way ♡) best viewed on a computer, rather than a mobile, due to sizing.

-jake 

PS: please _**DO NOT REPOST TO TUMBLR OR ANY OTHER SOCIAL MEDIA WITHOUT MY PERMISSION!!**_ if my stuff gets reposted then i'll stop making it.


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